Reanimate Bone, Celestial Bronze, Stygian Iron
by Itty Bitty Firebird
Summary: In which Percy loses an arm to a monster, which acts as a catalyst for a changed life. Hurt, self-discovery, depression, and healing. Eventual Pernico. Rated M for dark themes, talk of suicide, violence and possible slash. We'll see.
1. Chapter 1--Light

Disclaimer: If these were mine, this would be canon. Haha, I'm kidding, who wants that responsibility?

_'Surely, surely, this is not how I'm going to die,'_ ran through Percy Jackson's head, as he battled the drakon. It didn't seem right, that he should live through so much-the First prophecy and a war against the Titans, the second prophecy and a war against Gaea, and a trip through Tartarus itself—only to die in his pajamas, fighting a runt lizard. He had woken up this morning, poured cereal for himself, called Annabeth to see if she wanted to hang out—he hadn't had any inkling of impending doom.

His world was awash in sensation. There was a burn across his left flank and scrapes on both knees. Everything around him was almost-dark, the almost-dark of early morning. All Percy could make out through the gloom was the occasional flash of scales and darting figures. The sounds, on the other hand, were overwhelming. His own rapid, harsh breathing was the forefront, the battle cries of Annabeth and Hazel, dodging the sharp-toothed and scaly beast, and the snuffles and crinkling sounds of the drakon filled the empty space.

"We need light!" Annabeth said from somewhere off to his left.

"I have an idea!" Hazel yelled. "There's something sharp and metal, beneath the monster!"

"Do it!" Annabeth prompted. Percy was lost; he had no idea what the plan was. If Annabeth approved, it would have to work, and he would have to trust.

His eyes darted back and forth, trying to see _anything, _to no avail. He shook slightly as the ground under his feet rumbled, then a sound of shrieking metal drove into his ears like a dagger. He clapped his hands over his ears, dropping Riptide onto the ground with a muffled 'clank'. There was a thick sound, a cut off roar, and a ground-shaking impact that wobbled the earth.

Hazel had impaled it on a metal from underground.

"Is it dead?" Percy hesitantly stepped forward, needed to know, but unable to see.

Then, "Percy!" both girls shrieked at once.

His world exploded into a tidal wave of agony. All senses other than touch vanished, drowning in hurt. The pain was radiating out, ripples of unyielding fire; one part of his brain recognized that something was very wrong with his arm, but the rest of it was screaming that he needed someone…anyone…but the screaming fell silent as darkness finally swallowed him.

When consciousness dragged him back from the darkness, he nearly cried. The only reason he didn't was because he wasn't quite there—the world was muted, and he was indifferent to what was going on around him. There were people there, but there was pain there also, so he was happy to let his mind wander. The first place it wandered, or ran straight to, was the pain.

The last time he had felt a pain like this, he had bathed in the river Styx.

This time, there was no drive. The pain was useless. In the Styx, he had known he was doing this for his family, the other half-bloods, and that kept him going. He had walked into the river knowing it would hurt, walking because he would always make that choice. If he had to suffer to save them, he would gladly take any measure of pain. This time, hurting like this wouldn't help anyone. Last time, Annabeth had saved him, like she always would.

He remembered her saying that, who knows how long ago.

"Percy," she had chided gently, when he once again came home injured from a fight. He was always doing that now, without the blessing of Achilles. She was binding up his ribs, which were probably broken, and he asked why.

"Why?" He had questioned, uncomprehending. Why did Annabeth follow him all those years ago, on the slight promise that he was important? Why did she risk her life for his, over and over again? He had saved the world.

"Percy, I love you."

"I love you." He whispered. He knew she knew; it was obvious. They had both realized that, while they may love each other, they weren't 'in love' with each other. He was her hero, the promise that made her learn and train from the time she was seven to the time she was twelve, and then after that she would have followed him anywhere. That was what made him a hero. He belonged to her, in the same way he belonged to all the campers, except more so. She had pushed him up on the pedestal he had led people to victory on. He knew that, and knew he could _never_ forget that.

Every time he saw the color grey, he thought of her stormy eyes, thinking. Every time he went to camp, taught other kids how to fight, he thought of her. She had woven herself so entirely into his life, his being, that she couldn't be unwoven. They loved each other.

The Greeks had many words for love. English tries to compress it, push so many different kinds of feeling into one word. The love Percy had for Annabeth had never been heart-stopping. It wasn't all-encompassing. It wasn't the center of their relationship. His love for her—his best friend—was a softer love, a relentless one. It would always be there, as constant as the sea, and it would always be the ground upon which he built other relationships.

But he wasn't in love with Annabeth Chase.

"I'm not in love with you." He barely got the words out, as she wound fabric around his torso. She never even broke pace, never hesitated.

"I know. That's the point, Percy." She pressed a kiss to his forehead and dropped ibuprofen into his palm. That didn't make sense to him, but then, Annabeth had always known and understood things before him. That was alright.

He was always lucky. When he was younger, he had always thought himself unlucky. Then person after person around him had died: Bianca, Beckendorf, Selina, Luke, Jason. He had seen the terror of monsters, and the deeper, more vibrant terror of losing your own mind.

It was kind of accepted by then that all those who had survived the war had been driven crazy. Some of them hid it better than others. Those that weren't crazy were those that had died.

The rambling thoughts of his crazed mind deteriorated into murky sleep.

At some point, subconscious Percy must have decided he ought to wake up. At least, he'd say he decided to wake up, because someone slapped him and he needed to preserve some dignity. He dragged his eyelids open.

The world slowly came into focus. Bright, blindingly bright, light burned into his eyes. He shut them again, tight, as a barrier.

"No. I need you to stay conscious for a minute." Percy didn't recognize the voice. It was rough and deep and sounded worried, yet commanding. Percy had just decided he didn't really care for this place right now, and was trying to go back to whatever comfortable, blacked out place he had come from when another slap of pain hit his face, this time on the right side.

"Nico, stop!" Hazel, he identified; that was Hazel's shrill voice. _She said Nico,_ he realized. _She took me to Nico. _

"I can't. He can't black out right now, he needs to stay conscious." Percy, who was still strung out on adrenaline, somehow made the connection that it was Nico who was speaking. And, that it was Nico who had slapped him.

Someone gently pried his eyelid open. He focused in on Hazel's golden eyes, swimming and shimmering above him.

"Hey, Percy."

"Hey." He managed. Gods, it hurt to talk.

"Nico's going to fix you up. Are you hurting?"

"Like hell."

"I'm so sorry. Annabeth and I are both okay." She added, before he had to ask.

"What hap'nd." He slurred, and then gasped as a razor-sharp pain filtered through whatever pain killer he'd been given. He tried to tilt his head to see, but Hazel grabbed his chin firmly and kept his face anchored where it was.

"The drakon got in one good bite before it died. I'm sorry, I should've told you it wasn't dead yet." She looked terrified and he could tell she was blaming herself. He shook his head as much as he could, between being weak as a newborn kitten and her grip on his jaw.

"Why are we here?" Percy murmured, barely moving his lips.

"Nico understands medical stuff better than anyone else." That didn't seem right, somehow. It was ironic that the lord of death's son saving people's lives.

"How bad?" Percy saw the fear in her eyes as she flickered them over to his left, presumably at her brother.

"Nothing we're not fixing." Nico's face came into view and gave an encouraging, and slightly creepy, smile.

"Yay." Percy closed his eyes, only to have another searing pain in his shoulder tear them open again. "Gods!" He yelped, trying to sit up, only to have Hazel push down on his right shoulder and anchor him to the bed.

"Percy, you need to _stay down_." She insisted. His breathing picked up. This wasn't right, something was wrong, something was missing, this wasn't _right_…

"We're done for now." Nico declared.

"Good."

"You can sit up, Jackson. We need to talk."

Percy slowly moved up, still feeling out-of-touch in his own body. Hazel guided him up and propped a pillow behind him, which seemed odd, because it was obvious now that he wasn't a bed but on a floor. Nico was quickly wiping down metal instruments and sliding them into a box, finger dexterously locking each one into place.

Percy took a deep breath and looked at the damage. He knew when he realized he had given up the Blessing of Achilles that someday he would be hurt badly. Knowing is not the same as seeing; he was not prepared for the icy pit in his stomach or the sudden dead, unable to think feeling in his head.

"My arm's gone." He announced dumbly.

Author's note: If I get enough reviews, I will continue. I only need a couple, folks. I mean good reviews, though, not the 'you messed up on your grammar' ones.

I hope to make this a nice, long story. I also apologize to any of you who dislike me hurting our dear Percy.

-Tobi.


	2. Chapter 2--Pomegrate Seeds

Chapter Two: Pomegranate Seeds

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.

Previously—

_Knowing is not the same as seeing; he was not prepared for the icy pit in his stomach or the sudden dead, unable to think feeling in his head. _

_"My arm's gone." He announced dumbly. _

Hazel was crying. Her metallic eyes glittered and she wiped away her tears as soon as they fell, as if they were shameful. Nico looked scared. He kept pushing his hair out of his face and narrowing his eyes at Percy. Percy just felt empty.

"What now." It wasn't a question, because Percy already felt the answer. His job was done, the big bad guys were defeated, and now he couldn't even fight. There wasn't anything to do.

Hazel sniffled. "You just get better. That's all you have to focus on."

"Oh." Percy leaned back and laughed. Then, he kept laughing. It took him a minute to realize he was getting hysterical. He couldn't stop laughing. "Oh, I need to get better." The laugh that followed that was dead, cruel, even to his ears.

"Hazel, would you go Iris-message Annabeth? Tell her Percy's going to be staying for a while." Nico instructed, his eyes never wavering from Percy's.

She looked from Nico, who looked about 200% done, to Percy, who didn't know how he looked but was willing to bet it wasn't pretty. She opened her mouth only to close it again, and stood up. She walked around Percy, but paused on his other side. She pressed a kiss onto his forehead, taking him by surprise, before she slid from the room. She closed the door behind her.

"Perseus, I want you to listen to me." Percy's eyes snapped to Nico's at the use of his full name. "Got your attention? Good.

"You are going to stay here for a while. I need to keep an eye on that arm, and frankly you aren't in any state to be wandering around."

"Why not?" Not that Percy knew why he was arguing; he just didn't like being told what to do.

"You're damaged, and I don't just mean the arm. It's going to take some getting used to, and it'd be best if you were away from all," he waved his arm dismissively toward the ceiling, to indicate the world up above, "the stuff up there. Annabeth agrees."

Well, that was that. If Annabeth agreed, surely it was the only available plan. That thought only had a slightly sarcastic undertone in Percy's head, because he knew deep down it was probably true. One portion of Percy's brain was thinking of all the losses he had to come to terms with, his arm being one huge one that he still hadn't fully accepted. It seemed inconceivable that he could still be denying the loss in his heart and mind, as his nose itched and he tried to scratch it only to find that, hey, there's a limb missing there and he's going to have to get used to that. The other, less sane (ha.) portion of his brain was rocking in the corner in a tin foil hat, declaring that Percy had never needed time to recover from losses and certainly didn't need any now.

"Annabeth said you should take some time. I volunteered this place, because it's far away from other demigods, and monsters. We're in hell, nobody will bother you." Nico continued, absently drawing a pattern on the floor. He was sitting cross legged, with his back against the wall. Percy was still reclined in his spot on the floor, propped up with a pillow. He surveyed the room. It was small, concrete. It was clean, but still felt…tainted. Percy noted in a vague way that there was a lot of blood that had dried into the porous cement. That was his blood. He knew—had seen firsthand—how was hard it is to clean blood out of cement floors, even with lava like they used to use back at camp in his past life. Chances are Percy's blood would always be imbedded in the floor here in hell, in a—

Where the heck were they?

"Where are we?" Percy was actually asking because he was interested this time. "And why isn't Annabeth here?"

"We're in one of my buildings, on the banks of the Styx. Even if you can't control it and really shouldn't, I think being near water might help. Annabeth is safer above than down here."

"Good, then. Water should help, I think. As long as I don't have to get in again."

Nico's laugh was morbid and unsettling. "No, and I wouldn't let you get in again, I don't think."

That response made Percy look at Nico, hard. He looked both alike and unlike the Nico Di Angelo that Percy remembered. He was taller, stronger looking. His clothes were a similar, if not the same, pair of jeans and dark shirt. The skull ring, the black sword of death, the haunted look: it all screamed of the same Nico. The way he held himself was what was different. He wasn't shy, or scared looking now. He looked like he was in his domain. The last time Percy had seem him like this, he had declared himself the 'Ghost King'.

To be fair, though, Percy hadn't seen a lot of Nico after the wars. Percy had thrown himself into repairing the camps, ignoring the existential crisis of 'I've finished the prophecies, now what do I do with my life?', and spent spare time killing monsters that cropped up around. Nico had fought as hard as anyone in the wars, stood watch over Jason while he died, declared he would kill anyone who hurt Hazel, and vanished into the shadows. Hazel had mentioned once that he had become a commander of sorts for Hades' army.

"Hazel said you're in charge of a lot of dead people." Percy blurted into the silence and then cringed at his own awkward wording.

"Hazel said right. I am in charge of a lot of dead people."

"I guess Hades trusts you now, then?" Percy didn't even know why he was pushing on what he knew, he knew, was a sore subject. Maybe he wanted to deflect attention off of himself, and the fact that he knew very little of what was happening in Nico's life now. Plus, he may have been a bit bitter by the fact that Nico once turned Percy over to Hades, even if he didn't know Hades' plan when he did it.

"No. Dad and I don't "trust" each other. It's respect on his part, because I can strategize and I'm a little maniacal. I respect him because he's a god, and I like not being turned to ash."

"That's cool."

"Hm." Nico hummed, and eyed Percy from tousled head to muddy feet. "Feel up to taking a walk?"

Percy's pride said yes, but his body yelled no. The obvious winner had him wincing and trudging alongside Nico a few minutes later.

"We aren't going far." He promised. Sure enough, he led Percy out the doorway Hazel had left and to the right, down a hall light by little glow-y stones, and into the room at the end of the hall. In the room there were a number of the glow-y rocks, a small bed, and a small dresser and stand. Nico pointed to the bed and said "Sleep if you'd like."

"Thanks." Percy patted his jeans pocket and went, if possible, a little bit weaker. The expression must have shown on his face because Nico quickly told him that Riptide had come back to his jacket pocket, but the jacket was in the dresser, along with another shirt, as they'd had to rip his to get to his arm. "Thanks." Percy breathed, a little more sincerely.

Nico shrugged and left the room, saying "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

Percy swept back the quilt, which was embroidered with little dancing skeletons and the souls of the damned, took a quick peek to see if Nico was kidding about bed bugs, then clambered in. He laid there for a moment, pointedly not thinking about the blood he had glimpsed on Nico's forearms or the fact that it felt like his left hand was itching, despite no longer having a left hand to be itchy.

_Phantom pain,_ Percy thought. He snorted to himself, at the irony of having phantom pain amongst ghosts.

Percy opened his eyes hours later. The room was still dim. It seemed that the underworld had one light setting: dim. It explained Nico's paleness, anyway, although a pale Nico was still as dark as a tanned Percy. It must have been the Italian blood.

"Good morning, Sir Jackson." A voice declared from the corner. Percy grabbed for his pen, realized it wasn't there, grabbed for the other pocket with a cross body grab, and ended up falling off the bed. First impressions: bad. He normally never thought of himself as the savior of the world, except when he had done something embarrassing and felt he had failed 'savior of the world' standards. With the side of his face squished into the rug and one leg still on the bed, now was one of those times. He pushed himself up on his one remaining arm and let his leg drop off the bed, rolling onto his back.

The dead butler in the corner did not look impressed.

"Ah!" Percy yelled, further disturbing the complex he had been having. The skeleton looked vaguely disapproving, although how a bunch of bones in a suit can look disapproving, Percy wasn't sure.

"Do you need help, sir?"

"No, I've got it." Percy snapped, before proceeding to spend an unnecessary amount of time dragging himself back up. While Percy Jackson tried to get himself back into an upright position by use of both cabinet and Grateful Dead quilt, the skeleton spoke, utterly undisturbed by his cursing and flailing.

"Sir Di Angelo has requested I help you with anything you need for the next three days. He was called away on an unexpected job, but will be back the day after tomorrow. He says, and I quote, "Tell Percy not to leave, not to go swimming in any water source, and not to do anything Hazel wouldn't do.", unquote."

The skeleton paused. Percy coughed out a laugh. It was worth noticing that Nico hadn't said 'don't do anything I wouldn't do', which meant he recognized he was hardly an ideal example of exemplary behavior for people in the underworld. He also hadn't said 'don't do anything Annabeth wouldn't do', which was a little harder for Percy to understand. It had to be because Hazel was a bit softer, more passive than Annabeth, and Nico wanted Percy to just be passive for three days.

He could do passive for three days, surely.

"How can I help you?" The dead man inquired politely.

"What's your name?" Percy asked as he gingerly lay back on the bed, careful to avoid the pained area of his shoulder.

"I cannot recall. Sir Di Angelo always calls me Skeletor, or Jeeves, depending on his humor at the time."

"What do you do, here? Are you like a butler?"

"In a way. I owe a hundred years of service to Sir Di Angelo, and he kindly decided to have me cleaning and doing maintenance, rather than sending me out on monster patrol."

"Why?"

"I imagine he has a fondness for me. I've saved his life before, and Sir Di Angelo doesn't like debts."

"How'd you save his life?"

"Would you like me to show you the rest of this house and the yard?" Jeeves never missed a beat. He switched tracks quick enough to let Percy know that topic wasn't up for discussion.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

He led Percy back out of the room and down the hallway Percy recalled having followed Nico down. This time he noticed there were no other doors coming off the passage. They went back through the room that was Percy's impromptu surgery platform, where he could still see the rough circle of red. They went through the doorway on the opposite side, which led to yet another hallway lined with radioactive-looking rock.

"What are those?" Percy pointed to one.

"Witch lights. They are not literally from witches, nor are they made of witches. They are merely rock that glows in the dark. Sir Di Angelo prefers them to conventional lighting, like lanterns, because they do not need electricity and there is less chance of fire."

"You mean he likes the place to look creepy." Percy deciphered.

"Precisely. He does have a flare for the dramatics." Jeeves pointed out a bathroom to the left and suggested Percy take a shower. Percy accepted the towel Jeeves pulled out of a cabinet and stepped into the room.

The bathroom was small and circular, which struck him as odd. It was lit by several basketball-sized witch stones suspended from the ceiling by ropes. The floor was made up of concrete cut into blocks, leaving millimeters of space between each, probably for drainage. The shower was to Percy's right, in a concrete alcove. Percy locked the door behind him and tried to decide whether or not to remove the bandage. Deciding it would have to come off soon and he could properly clean it then, he left it on. There wasn't much point to bleeding out the day after having it bandaged. Percy showered quickly and wrapped the towel around himself, shivering slightly. The bandage had held up very well under the streams of water—it felt like a plaster-fabric mix and, while it was wet, it wasn't weakened or shifting out of place. Towel held in place securely with his right hand, he made his way back down both hallways to his rooms. There, he took the chance to get a good look at his arm for the first time.

There wasn't even a stump. The arm had parted company from the rest of him right at the top, where the joint from the shoulder met the arm. He couldn't see if the wound was bad or if the bone had splintered, because of the bandage that had been adhered to the spot. He recognized that the spot made a prosthetic practically impossible. Not that he had been hoping for one, as it wouldn't help much with anything he needed to do.

He took a deep breath in, followed by a deep breath out. Panicking would do no good.

Getting dressed was an undertaking. Eventually he managed to get boxers and jeans on, but it involved a lot of tripping, hopping and swearing. The shirt was a bit easier: one arm through and it just slid the rest of the way on. It had short sleeves, so the left sleeve didn't just flop around uselessly like it would've on a long sleeved shirt.

Percy just left his clothes folded up on the bathroom counter, where they would hopefully be taken care of. He entertained himself by imagining them being burnt.

That done, he stood in the middle of what was his bedroom for now, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do with his life.

Twenty minutes later, he had come up with a list of objectives.

First—Visit the rivers nearby. Putting aside what Nico had said, because Nico wasn't in charge of him, Percy wanted to know what the nearby rivers could do and where they ran. He knew of the Styx and what it could do, and had no interest in going through that again. He didn't want that much pressure. He was somewhat familiar with the Lethe, because of the campers in Hypnos's cabin. He was extremely used to the Phlegethon, which had kept him and Annabeth alive for so long in Tartarus. He knew that one ran through Hades as well, only less so than in Tartarus. There were two more, but he couldn't recall them. It was possible Jeeves would tell him, if he asked nicely.

Second objective—he needed to contact camp. Rachel, the Oracle of Delphi, may have a prophecy for him. He needed some guidance as to what to do. He knew the Oracle was still giving kids quests like it always did, they just weren't big, apocalyptic ones like the two Percy had had to confront with the others. Percy was very happy those days were over, but he craved another adventure, another mission. Rachel had called him a quest-addict, which was an apt enough term. For so long Percy's movements had been aimed towards finishing a job, he was left without a proverbial finish line. Surely now, there would be a suggestion as to what Percy needed to do. There must be some job out there for one-armed demigods!

Third objective—Percy needed food. That one probably should have gone first, in retrospect. There were two major problems with this objective: he didn't know where to find food, and Persephone. Persephone wasn't the problem, exactly; the problem was that Persephone had eaten food of the underworld and had been stuck there. Here. Whatever. The point was, percy didn't fancy being stuck in the underworld for the rest of his life, regardless of the fact that he didn't know what he was going to do with the rest of his life. His plans didn't so far include sitting in the underworld with the creepy kid of the death god, who was his cousin, now that he thought of it (_gah, banish that thought!_ Percy's head yelled), all because he ate the seeds of a pomegranate. He didn't even know what a pomegranate tasted like, but it couldn't be that good.

Food first, he decided, as his stomach growled its disapproval. He wandered back through the hallways, again, and out the end of the hall that contained the bathroom. That led him to a clearing full of fruit trees. There were probably a dozen trees there, and only half of those were in fruit. The fruit was red and round and Percy recognized them as pomegranates from carvings he'd seen. He was not going to eat anything here.

The grove was surrounded by a tall, metal fence. It was the kind of fence that you'd see around a haunted mansion. Percy turned around to see the house. It was concrete on the outside too, and small. He could see the house was shaped like two lines meeting at an angle, with a dot at the opposite side that must be his room, and the dot at the angle that must be the impromptu surgery room. He was at the end of the corner line.

Water was trickling nearby. Percy could hear the rushing sound, like when you put a seashell up to your ear. He walked past the stately, twisted trees across the cobbled ground. When he reached the fence, it struck him how tall it was. it was easily twice as tall as Percy, and he was six feet. Percy didn't touch the fence, because it would have been just his luck that it was electrified. Istead, he peered through it from a foot away. Sure enough, there was a river: the Styx.

He would have recognized it anywhere.

He could hardly claim it brought back happy memories. It did give him a sense of pride, a kind of 'hey, I survived that' feeling. It was the same feeling he had at the end of the Titan war and the end of the War with Gaea. It was an odd feeling, bittersweet. It left his stomach turned in knots and his heart heavy, as if his heart itself had become weightier for being broken. He found himself fingering the bandage on his shoulder.

"Would Sir Jackson care for a meal?" Percy jumped about a foot in the air and spun around. Of course, it was Jeeves. It was disconcerting to look at him and not being able to meet his eyes, because, duh, he had none.

"Yes," Percy said hesitantly.

"Fret not, it's not food grown in Hades' garden. Sir Di Angelo brought down saplings from a garden above, so they can be eaten without fear of enchainment down here." His tone of voice suggested he knew what it was to be chained down here, and not be able to leave.

"In that case, yes."

Percy took the tray from him. There was a glass jug of water, a sandwich on some dark bread, and a cup of pomegranate seeds. Percy stared at it for a moment, before sinking to the ground. Percy folded one of his legs under the other and balanced his tray on his legs, so that he could eat. Another thing on the checklist of things Percy could no longer do: eat standing up without a table.

Jeeves didn't even look down, just kept on addressing the spot where Percy had been standing.

"I suggest you get some rest, Sir Jackson. You can leave your plate here when you are done."

"You don't have to call me 'Sir'."

"Thank you, Jackson."

Percy decided that was not a battle he wanted to fight right then.

"Thanks."

That was the system for the next two days. Percy wandered around, not going very close to any one river. Jeeves popped in at random times, giving Percy four meals a day and herding him back when he got too far. Percy grew to like the taste of pomegranate seeds, if the texture still threw him a little. He couldn't get used to the bread, though.

After three days, his list of things he couldn't do anymore grew to twenty seven items, then thirty seven, when he counted the things that weren't a product of losing his arm.

It now included tying his shoes, sleeping in the dark, and asking for help.

Being a demigod was messed up.

Author's note:

Thanks for the lovely reviews. The blackmail is still in place because we're still in the early part of the story—if you want more, let me know! Review if you've got questions or comments, too.

There will be a quest coming in the next chapter. I'm not going to say whose quest it is. There's some upcoming Pernico interaction of the tense variety on the horizon, as well. We will be seeing our great lady, Sally Jackson, at some point in the near future, if I get some responses. Otherwise, the story will end with a disturbed Percy hanging out with an indifferent Jeeves. Surely you don't want that!


	3. Chapter 3--Double Nightmares

Disclaimer (Read as haiku):

I don't own Percy.

Neither do I own Nico.

Or anything else.

Previously—

_After three days, his list of things he couldn't do anymore grew to twenty seven items, then thirty seven, when he counted the things that weren't a product of losing his arm. _

_It now included tying his shoes, sleeping in the dark, and asking for help. _

_Being a demigod was messed up. _

Nico returned late that night. Per Percy's request, Jeeves woke him up when he arrived. Percy had been planning for the past three days; collecting everything he wanted—needed—to say to Nico.

"We need to talk," was the first thing that left his lips, as he tracked down Nico. Nico had his own house a short walk from Percy's, upriver. The house was nearly identical to Percy's (which was still technically Nico's) in design, but where the blank, empty room Percy had dubbed the 'surgery room' was in his house, was a kitchenette in Nico's.

"You cook?" Percy questioned, veering sharply off his pre-designated script of how this conversation would go.

"Occasionally." Nico shrugged, turning down a radio on a shelf, but not turning it entirely off. You wanted to talk." Nico prompted.

"Right. Right, so, I'm just going to get this out there, and then you can tell me what you think. Jeeves said that'd be the best way of going about this…"

"Percy." Nico cut Percy off. He pushed a strand of dark hair out of his eyes and looked intently at him.

"I had a dream."

Percy flashed back to the dream. It had started in a familiar place: Tartarus. His subconscious mind took him back there nearly every night. It was the reason he could no longer sleep in the total dark; he couldn't stand to wake up from dreams of the dark to find it a reality. He figured that out in the first week of returning from the pit. He had woken up, back in his cabin, and when he was still shrouded in the dark he screamed and screamed until some of the remaining Ares kids had run in, armed to the teeth and expecting a fight. None of them had been mad when he sheepishly informed them he had been dreaming—they, as well as everyone else at camp, had been the frightened recipients of many nightmares. Alone he had been left. He hadn't slept again that night. The next morning, he asked around until someone found him a little light, just enough to keep the room from being dark.

Despite Percy's room here being faintly lit by the witch stones, the Tartarus dream found him again. He was kneeling in Hell, unable to move. He couldn't see anyone. He was on the verge of panicking, thinking he'd be stuck there forever, when the dark spiraled up and around him, spiraling. There was a searing pain and he realized his arm had gone, again. _Well, that sucks_. Out of nowhere, his mother appeared, looking down on him pityingly.

"Percy, what've you done to yourself?" She chided. "You're no use anymore."

"No." he gasped.

"Seaweed Brain, I knew this would happen!" Annabeth sprang out of nowhere, peering down at him knowingly. "I knew you'd do something stupid and put everyone in danger!"

"Please?" He pleaded, for her to stop, not say those things. His mom, his best friend, they were all turning against him and he knew they were right.

"Percy. You promised." It was Nico, sliding out of the shadows to really drive the thumbnails of guilt in. "You promised you'd keep my sister safe, and you _didn't._"

"I'm sorry." Percy tried to say, eyes snatching from his mom's disapproving eyes, to Annabeth's judging ones, to Nico's hurt eyes that looked so alike to the one's he had when Percy had first come back to give the bad news (sorry, your sister's dead. That's a shame. Hope you like camp!). Then, Percy had left him be. Nico had been his responsibility—his, because Nico didn't have anyone else—and Percy had left him. There had always been bigger fish to fry; there were Titan's to defeat, Mother Earth to vanquish, and at the time, one lost demigod hadn't been a priority in Percy's mind.

"You lied." Nico hissed on. "You. Always. Lie." He punctuated each word with a step closer to Percy. Finally, only a foot away, Nico reached a hand out and shoved Percy, hard, to where he fell on the hard ground, legs buckling painfully.

Annabeth laughed, and her and his mom vanished.

"I'm sorry." Percy repeated. He could feel the gritty ground beneath him, he could make out the faces of the two left near him but nothing else further. He couldn't feel himself breathing. He couldn't draw air. His hair was falling, damp, around his face, saturated with his nervous sweat.

Nico laughed darkly. "It's too late for that." Then he stepped fluidly into the shadows again and sifted away into the dark. Percy was alone, entirely alone, when the dream had ended. With a jolt like being hit with a battering ram he was aware he was back in the kitchen, and he really needed to talk to Nico about his dream.

"Percy?" The boy in question inquired softy. He was ducking his head down and to the side, trying to meet Percy's vacant eyes. His voice sounded like he had been repeating Percy's name for a while. There was still the soft, uneven murmuring of the radio in the background.

Percy nodded, acknowledging Nico's calls and meeting his eyes. "Sorry, lost in thought."

Nico nodded, in a manner of one who was used to being around people who randomly stopped responding to people and got lost in their own heads, mid-conversation.

"Do you hate me?" Percy blurted, before he let his nerve fail him.

Nico fell back against the counter, mouth agape in a comical 'o' shape. He blinked, twice, his obsidian eyes focusing on something on the floor before darting back up to Percy's, like a trapped bird. Percy became suddenly aware of how shallow his own breath was, and of how taut his body was, like a spring coiled and waiting to snap at Nico's command. His shoulder burned.

Nico took a deep breath in, held it, and let it out. "A little." He answered. A moment later, he shook his shaggy head. "A lot." He amended.

Percy nodded, feeling the tension drain out of him. That was not good, but . . . predictable? It was a reasonable reaction to the hurt he had inflicted on others, which wasn't something Percy got much of. For the most part, people's opinions of him were either that of hero-worship or loathing. Nico didn't seem to fall into either of those, or maybe he was both, and they canceled each other out.

"Can I fix it?" Percy asked, and his voice broke slightly mid-sentence. He was shaking, his mouth dry. He didn't want to know. He needed to know.

He needed to be able to fix something.

In the shredded existence that was his current life, all these sudden tears in the fabric of the plan he had woven for his own life, he needed to know he could sew one back together.

"I think so. Probably." Nico looked at him sideways, unnervingly observant. It seemed to Percy that Nico could read him like a book, and could use that to break him down if the mood struck him. Percy found he didn't really care, which led him to two possible conclusions: either he trusted Nico that much or he was already so broken it wouldn't matter anymore. Both were, at the same time, depressing and uplifting.

"Why do you ask?" Nico asked, turning back to the counter where he stuck a couple pieces of bread in a toaster.

"Dream." Percy reminded him, simply, and that was all Nico needed to hear.

"I'm not mad at you, though. Do you want some toast and honey?"

"You hate me, but you're not mad at me? Yes, please."

"Nope. I hate you because of lots of things. I'm not mad at you because you were trying to do what all of us try to do: survive. Besides, something's happened that's made everything a lot easier to deal with. How many slices do you want?"

"What happened, and how can I get that? Just one, thanks."

"It's a long story and you can't, I'm afraid. Here you go."

"I like long stories, and I haven't got anywhere else to be. Thanks."

They leaned against the counter and didn't say anything for a few moments, munching on honey bread. Percy didn't bother with a plate this time, but also didn't sit down. Nico broke the silence first.

"I went for a swim in the wrong river. Well, it's more of a spring, really. Have you ever heard of the Acheron?"

"It's another river down here." Percy racked his brains for anything.

"It is. You've got the Styx, which of course you are very familiar with—it's the river of invincibility, and also of endings, in the figurative. Then you've got the Phlegethon, which moved to Tartarus a while ago, in all its flaming glory. The Cocytus is the river of lamentation and is a serious downer. The Lethe hasn't been seen for years, but it's the river of forgetfulness. The Acheron is the river of woe, but also of healing."

"You took a dip in the river of woe?"

"Woe and healing. I was in a pretty bad state for a while, but the thing about confronting your woes is that you kind of have to heal. It's not an option for you."

"Why not?" It sounds _good_."

"First—I should never have been there. I wasn't planning to leave there having healed something. Second—the river vanished, like it should have. These rivers down here aren't meant to be used by demigods. They're far too powerful. It disappeared pretty soon after I left."

"Weird." Percy took it at that, but reminded himself to look into that.

"Weird." Nico echoed back.

That was all that needed to be said on the matter then.

After several hours of talking about deep and shallow topics, Percy had finally filled in the blanks of his knowledge of what Nico had been up to for most of his life. He was a leader of a faction of Hades' army, specializing in strategy. It turns out that his long, long time in the Lotus Casino had been helpful here: thanks to Mythomagic and other similar games, he had a good mind for sneaky plans and direct attacks. Nico lived down in the Underworld most of the time, but also had small homes in both New York and Italy. He hedged around the topic, but from what Percy gathered he paid for both of them and visits them regularly to get away.

In exchange, Percy told Nico some stories from his childhood. Nico (along with nearly every demigod on the planet) knew about Percy's life since the first Great Prophecy and the Titan War. Nobody had been interested in his less-magical childhood, until Nico. Again Percy got the feeling that Nico both hated and adored him, which seemed to make him Percy's most valuable friend.

At what Percy presumed was nighttime they finally bid goodbye and turned in. Percy hadn't had much by way of dinner but wasn't hungry—he found his appetite wasn't near as strong the past few days or so. Overall, it had been a fairly good day. He should have known the nightmares would be bad.

Tortured, hurt, useless, drowning, before finally waking up, heart pounding and breath coming in sharp, pained gasps.

"Oh, gods." Percy repeated to himself over and over again, clawing across his chest in a three-fingered gesture he had picked up from Grover ages ago. It had become a habit to make it when feeling scared. The symbol had morphed from a superstitious gesture to a soothing one. It was odd, but his own scraping hand digging at his chest was calming. He ran his hand over his neck, as if to make sure he wasn't choking, before sliding sideways to his shoulder. Thick, hard bandage met his intrepid fingertips.

A knock sounded at his doorway.

"Who is it?" Percy whispered it at first, then cleared his throat and tried again. There was no door, but from this angle he couldn't see who it was. "Who's there?"

"It's Nico." Nico didn't wait for a reply, just walked in. "Jeeves told me you haven't been sleeping well, and I heard you scream." He announced, without preamble. Percy closed his eyes and counted to three, reminding himself that Nico had never had a proper education in the polite manner of confronting bad sleepers. If there was a polite manner of confronting damaged people having screaming fits at night. Percy didn't know if there was, but surely there should be.

"I didn't mean to wake you." He looked at Percy, and percy looked back. Nico walked over to one of the witch lights, as if to turn it off, and Percy made an involuntary noise. Nico paused, his hand hovering over the smooth rock.

"I can't sleep in the dark." Percy tried to say it casually, like 'I don't like broccoli', but it sounded weak even to his ears.

"Sure." Nico didn't even twitch. It occurred to Percy that he wasn't the only one in the room who had survived Tartarus a little worse for wear.

"I forget you went there too." Percy said quietly. He scanned Nico, to see if he flinched or reacted. Nico shook his head, in a motion that didn't seem right for Percy's statement. He tapped a small rock, a pebble, next to the larger witch light. It started a soft humming sound, a white background noise.

"Scoot over." Nico didn't give any explanation for the stone, or the instruction. Percy didn't need one. He was far too exhausted to overthink anything. When Nico slid into the bed next to him, making the mattress dip under his weight, Percy shifted to the side so there was no chance of his arm (what was left of it) being bumped.

"I just need a friend." Nico offered, as if he thought Percy would be freaking out over this. Sharing a bed with a fellow hero, when you were being plagued by nightmares and afraid of the dark? Not even registering on Percy's problem-o-meter. Any friend would do the same.

It was surprisingly easy to sleep that night. There were still nightmares, but none of the catastrophic size. There were a couple of times Percy could have sworn Nico was shaking next to him, but Percy remained silent. Brothers-in-arms.

_Brothers-in-arms_, Percy considered. _I have a lot of those._

It was true. Percy didn't have much by way of family; his mom was the only one to ever register in that capacity.

Friends, too, were a sticky subject. 'Friends' was too small a word for the people he felt affection for. There were too many other emotions connected to them besides 'friendship'. Affection, love, loyalty, dedication, devotion, guilt, and connection swirled around in a soupy mess of emotion. Friendship didn't cover the feeling of almost dying with someone.

Allies was a word for wars, and didn't have the same squishy feeling.

But brothers- and sisters-in-arms?

It fit.

It took Percy much longer than it should have (it was honestly a faint niggle-y-feeling in the back of his brain as he drifted off) to realize that the 'in-arms' part implied the war wasn't over.

_'That's the whole point, Percy_', a voice in his head said. It sounded familiar, at one moment like Rachel's strong, high, insisting tremor, at the next it was Jason's calm, collected, stable tones. They were the two voices of reason that had been in his life. Rachel was still alive, if not accessible for chats anymore. Jason was slightly less living and wasn't that a punch in the gut for Percy?

_'The war never ends.' _ The voices continued. '_You're still fighting.'_

_'Ain't that the truth?'_ Percy hummed back to the voices in his head.

The next morning Percy woke up alone. Jeeves stepped out of the corner and it was a testament to Percy's skill at adapting that he didn't even flinch when the skeleton came at him with a box-cutter.

"What's that for?" Percy eyed the blade and the hollow eye sockets.

"I'm going to cut away your bandage, so that the wound can heal."

When Jeeves was done, Percy got his first good look at the spot.

The skin gathered together in an 'I' shaped seam. The sutures were regular and small, if a little jagged at places. The skin was puckered and it made Percy's stomach twist to see it.

He recalled, dimly, Rachel once talking about the stages of grief.

He had come back from the second war. They were playing air-hockey in some arcade on the East end.

Rachel was wearing a yellow sundress and a baseball hat that made Percy think of Annabeth and her Yankees cap. Rachel danced around her end of the table, moving to block Percy's strikes. They'd started hanging out in public more often, now that Annabeth was going off to college and Rachel had gotten a handle on not spouting visions of death and destruction around mortals, which meant that the two found themselves hanging out at nearby arcades and malls, and moaning about how difficult it was to be normal.

"There are five stages to grief." Rachel assured him. He had asked about how she had dealt with choosing to take the Oracle into herself. He hadn't gotten a choice, not really, but she had chosen this life and he wanted to know how she dealt with the loss of a 'normal' life.

"Denial comes first, and it was the shortest stage for me. It's hard to deny something when that something is using you as a channel for mystical visions. After that comes anger and bargaining. When you finally fall into a more 'passive' part, you get depressed. When the depression passes—and some people never get past that—you finally accept what happened and move on.

"I've accepted it. I'm the Oracle of Delphi, and I chose that fate." She cursed when Percy managed to get a point past her. She laughed a moment later when she got a point of her own past Percy while he considered her words.

Sitting on his bed, after Jeeves left with the cut bits of bandage, Percy remembered and finally understood what Rachel had been saying.

He ran a finger over the stitches and winced at the tight crest of pain.

Stage one—denial. Check.

Stage two—anger. That was going to be more of a struggle, but Percy was used to struggles.

In a way, he needed a struggle. That was both his burden and blessing.

Percy needed a fight to feel alive, and there would always be one for him, but right now he needed a little bit more than a fight. He needed a battle, a war.

It wasn't hard to find Nico, out on the flat ground beyond his house, running through drills with his dark sword. To Percy's surprise, he had either found or made an identical sword out of carved bone, and he used the swords in weaving tandem, slashing at air.

"Nico, I want to go on a quest."

Nico paused and lowered the blades alongside him to where the tips brushed grooves in the dirt. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Are my ideas ever good ones?" Percy countered. He knew it wasn't a good idea. He was hoping it would help, anyway.

"I'm going with you." Nico lowered one blade and lifted the other, the bone one, running a hand along the blade pensively.

"Why?"

"Are you really that stupid?"

"Apparently." Percy mused.

"I suppose it doesn't matter, then." Nico ran his thumb along the ivory seam of the blade, testing to see if it was still sharp. Nico sounded resigned, like he had lost an argument against someone, possibly himself. Percy could see Nico was avoid answering, but didn't press. He told himself he didn't deserve an answer, not from Nico, and not like this.

"We'll need a third member. We'll need a prophecy, too. Are you sure you want to come along with me on this? I don't even know what we'll be doing."

Nico laughed, and it was that maniacal laugh that reminded him of crazed people, whom Percy had seen plenty of over the years.

"I'm sure. Can you wait a few days? I need to take care of some things."

"Like what?" Percy pressed. He was anxious, he needed something. He needed adrenaline, or pressure, something to get his blood moving. He needed to feel whole again, as unlikely as that was to ever happen. He needed to _pretend_ he was whole again.

"That's none of your business." Nico snapped, snatching up his blades. Percy held his hands up in mock surrender.

"You have my apologies, your highness." Percy joked. Humor was his go-to for dealing with tense situations, and he could use Nico on this quest.

"No, I apologize." Nico said stiffly, testing the other blade. "Your highness?" He repeated back, incredulously.

"Well, you are the Ghost King, and the prince of the Underworld."

Nico shook his head. "I'm no more royalty than you."

"I like that thought. 'Prince Percy'. It does have a certain ring." Percy kidded. Nico wrinkled his nose but Percy saw his mouth turn up at the corners.

"When do we leave?" Percy asked, his tone turning serious again. He wished he knew why Nico got so touchy about seemingly innocuous topics. Then again, maybe it was best to leave his with his secrets.

"Let's aim for the day after tomorrow. You're leading, though, so you get to make all the visiting-the-Oracle plans."

"Thanks." Percy said sarcastically. He liked leading, but planning? He didn't like that as much. Then, he considered his current predicament. "Seriously, thanks, Nico."

"You're welcome." Nico swung his swords up onto either side of his head, resting them there on the flats of their blade.

The two walked together to side of the river before parting ways, Nico for his place and Percy for his.

Percy had plans to make, and a lot to consider. He brushed his hands along the pen in his pocket, a safety blanket of sorts.

Author's note:

It seems I will be updating every five or six days or so. I am sorry this late, and not as long as I was planning—I was skiing, in the mountains. It's surprisingly hard to write whilst soaring downhill on two hunks of fiberglass.

I know, excuses, excuses. Tobi, get your act together, you say, if there are any of you actually reading this.

If you are reading this, please read & review. Even if it's just to tell me your thoughts while reading, or to relay a joke you heard from your friends earlier. If I had friends (*sad laughter in the background*) I wouldn't have to beg you guys for responses.

Next update, we get a quest. Also, a run in with an old friend we haven't seen in a while, a break-down, and an accident of a sensitive nature.


	4. Chapter 4--Green Mist, Everywhere

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to Rick Riordan, even though I don't personally understand the idea of 'owning' things, as everything is made up of the same basic atoms and no particular thing differentiates this bench from that bench and money is only an idea, anyway. **

_Previously: The two walked together to side of the river before parting ways, Nico for his place and Percy for his. _

_Percy had plans to make, and a lot to consider. He brushed his hands along the pen in his pocket, a safety blanket of sorts. _

"Gods!" Percy exclaimed, dropping Riptide again. He was slashing at nothing—slashing at air, not even hitting anything, and he was still running out of steam. He was used to having another arm for balance, to help offset the sudden changes in weight as he swung the heavy sword. Without it his equilibrium was off, and he had to drop the sword or risk falling on it. he shook out his wrist and snatched up the well-worn handle again, pulling it around into his field of vision.

He'd had this sword for so long. He had fought the Minotaur with this sword, taken his first lessons with Luke with this sword. He took it—and his natural skill at sword fighting—for granted. Even when he had been out of practice, like when he'd been at school for nine months and hadn't practiced, he'd still been better than most. He wasn't like Annabeth or Nico, he wasn't strategy—he was a warrior, a hero, at heart.

Not being able work his sword without fear of hurting himself took that away, and he was left grasping.

He glared at the sword.

"Why can't you just work, huh?" He demanded from it. As predicted, it didn't answer.

Percy swiped his upper arm over his forehead to keep sweat from dripping into his eyes. It seemed his power over water didn't extend to sweat, because it wasn't listening to him.

Percy sat down and stuck the sword pommel between his knees, so that he could use his hand to set the cap on the tip of the blade, turning it back into a ballpoint pen. It had taken him a while to figure out how to do that. Uncapping had been even harder, because he was hesitant to pull off the cap with his teeth and have a freaking huge blade pop up right next to his mouth. He didn't need a surprise tonsillectomy.

Pen safely put away, Percy made a beeline for Nico's house. As it was mid-afternoon, Nico would be sleeping. The guy had weird sleep patterns, Percy had noticed. He would get up early, head off to some room in Hades' palace, get back at noon, sleep for a few hours, get back up, go back to Hades', go to bed early, get up in the middle of the night for a few hours, go back to sleep and start the cycle all over again.

For the past few nights Nico had dropped in at Percy's in the middle of the night, and spent the last part sharing a bed before leaving for work. Percy still had nightmares, but Nico woke him the couple of times they got really bad. He returned the favor the one time Nico had woken him with his thrashing and struggling. Percy had been struck in the side with a flailing arm and had heard Nico begging for something, and he had called Nico's name while shaking his arm until Nico woke up, gasping. They didn't speak of it, just as they didn't speak of when Nico stopped Percy from continuing through his nightmares.

"Nico." Percy tucked Riptide in his pocket and stretched out a hand to touch Nico's shoulder. Percy had noticed that Nico always slept like this: curled up around his own self, one arm tucked under his head and the other clutching one of his knives, the Stygian Iron one. He was like a lithe, scared kitty in a batman shirt. Percy pulled his hand back slightly when Nico flinched at his touch, but went back and placed his palm on Nico's shoulder and shook him. He stepped back quickly to avoid a knife to the gut. Nico almost came up swinging, but stopped the blade and growled at Percy.

Seriously, he growled, like a bear.

"Sorry." Percy said, quite unapologetically. "When do you want to leave?"

Nico flopped back down onto the mattress, winced, and pulled the other knife, his bone one, out from under his pillow.

"Give me few minutes, to pack." He ran a hand back through his shaggy hair and his mouth stretched open in a yawn, teeth flashing. Percy nodded and pushed Nico's legs over a foot so he could sit down on the bed. Nico got up and set his swords next to Percy, giving him a 'touch them and die' look. As if Percy wanted to grab those sharp death-sticks.

Nico packed a few pairs of jeans and shirts in a backpack he pulled out from under his bed. He threw a towel on top, and threw in a skull off his bookshelf, as an afterthought. He plucked a thin, elastic-y harness off a hook on the wall while Percy watched him curiously. The harness went over the thinner boy's head and snapped to his jeans in front on the left and back on the right, like half a pair of suspenders. Nico grabbed his swords and stacked them together, white on black, and slid them into the harness behind his right shoulder. He would have reach behind his head to grab them, like an archer reaching for a quiver, but they were easily accessible while being out of the way. Percy was impressed; he had never taken much time to consider how people whose swords didn't turn into pens had to carry theirs around.

"What do mortals see?" Percy asked Nico, who had started to pack the smaller pockets on his back with little bottles and packages.

"I think they look like tennis rackets most of the time. Once, I think it was a flute."

"Hm." Percy responded, eyeing the long weapons. "When did you start fighting with two?"

"I've been able to use two for a while. It wasn't until we got back from the second war that I switched over almost entirely."

"Where'd you get the other sword?"

Nico shrugged. "I made it. It was a monster's leg bone, originally—after I killed it, the bone was left as a trophy."

Percy nodded. He was familiar with the trophies that monster's left behind when you killed them.

"I took the bone, carved it out, and made myself another sword. Before that I had practiced with other's swords, but…" he touched the stark white handle, "It's not the same."

Percy nodded again. He knew the feeling, that irreplaceable feeling of having your own sword, a weapon you can use and use well. It's kind of, '_Even if I have no home, no hope, no food and no sleep, I have this. It's mine._'

It's a form of pride.

They set off twenty minutes later, both carrying backpacks and walking upriver, heading towards the easiest spot for Nico to shadow-travel them both out of the Underworld. Apparently it's minutely harder for Nico to shadow-travel out of the Underworld than to just shadow-travel in one plane to another place on that plane. Even that minute bit of energy is something Percy would rather Nico have, because his own battle-field skills are going through the wringer. At one point of the river that looks the same as every other spot to Percy, Nico told him to stop, curled a hand around his upper arm, and Percy dissolved into the darkness.

They reappear on one of the tables, in the dining pavilion, at Camp Half-Blood. Percy gingerly lifts his foot out of the plate of a pudgy boy who looked shell-shocked.

Eyes everywhere were fixed on him and Nico, Percy scanning the crowd for a familiar face, Nico staring back at their stares, unintelligible and unreadable. For a moment, Percy is rocked with the sheer impossibility of it all—

These are new kids. He doesn't know most of them, has never had to fight with them. Chances are they go on quests; they battle it out in the sword-fighting area. Until recently Percy taught them, like Chiron had asked him to, but he hadn't paid much attention to their names and faces.

All these kids had lost things, like he had, but they were happy and laughing and—had he not been standing on a table in the middle of the room—would have been munching their way through dinner.

Or lunch. He wasn't really sure of the time.

"PERCY!" A voice yelled from the edge of the room. He whipped his head over there and Nico, belatedly, released his arm. A girl in an overlarge shirt and scribbled-on leggings made her way through the sea of faces and chairs.

"Rachel." Percy breathed out, relieved at having found someone he knew.

She stood next to the table he was standing on and offered a hand to help him down. Rather than risking the treacherous climb down the side and the murderously-glaring kids, he walked down the length of the table and slipped off the end. Rachel met him at the end, with Nico, who had presumably risked the benches and campers.

Rachel reached out as if to grab his arm and steer him out, but only met air and then ribs. She flushed, spreading pink meeting the roots of her red hair, which she had put into cornrows.

"Come on, let's go to my place!" She said brightly, bouncing back quickly. She started walking down, past the cabins. She turned around and started walking backwards, looking over Percy and then Nico.

"You couldn't have picked a better place to pop in, could you?" She ribbed Nico good-naturedly.

Nico rubbed the back of his neck as if embarrassed, but smiled charmingly at her. She shook her head, seeing a lost cause.

Her cave was the least cave-ish cave Percy had ever seen. Sadly, he had seen a lot of caves in his days, and this one topped them all. He'd spent a lot of time hiding out in here between the lessons he gave, bunkered down with Rachel and Annabeth, even after they'd broken up.

Rachel had cable and an awesome DVD collection, foosball, Ping-Pong, and ice hockey tables, and a fridge that magically replicated drinks.

Nico whistled when he stepped inside. "This is a nice place." He said, eyeing the walls appreciatively.

"Thanks." Rachel said absently. She sat down on the sofa and turned on Percy. "What are you doing here?"

"I need a quest." Percy was determined to not let Rachel bully him into lying low for a while. Sure enough, the next ten minutes where comprised of her attempting to convince him to relax for a while, and him adamantly refusing.

"How long have you known me?" He argued. "I need a quest; I need to be helping in order to heal." Rachel still looked doubtful. "Nico, back me up here."

"He's too used to being on a quest—he has enough things to acclimate to without cutting him off from them." Nico applied some biased logic to the discussion, waving his hand at Percy's arm.

Rachel grimaced. It seemed she was coming around to the idea. Before she said so, she fixed her eyes on Nico and narrowed them. She opened her mouth once and closed it again.

"Nico, I don't think you get a say in 'healthy healing processes." She said cuttingly. Nico winced, as if she struck him.

"Wait, what?" Percy was lost. "Is this about his swim in the Avalon?"

"Archeron." Nico corrected, at the same time Rachel exclaimed "He told you?"

"It's no big deal." Percy looked at the two of them. Rachel was looking hard at Percy, and Nico wasn't meeting his eyes. "Is it?"

"No." Nico insisted.

"Yes," Rachel countered, "How much have you told him?" She turned on Nico, tilting her body in his direction.

"Enough."

"What are you two talking about?" Percy demanded. He felt like he was hearing one half of a phone conversation, and he couldn't fill in the blanks.

"Nothing." They both insisted in unison.

"That's not suspicious." Percy muttered sarcastically. "Do I get a quest already?"

Rachel looked torn, eying her hands at her lap. "Yes." She decided. She grabbed a notebook out from between the couch cushions and handed it to Percy with a pen. He balanced the notebook on his lap so he could write with his hand. Rachel leaned back, closed her emerald eyes, and opened her mouth.

The hair on the back of Percy's neck stood up and he shuddered, and then shuddered again when green mist started winding through the room, coalescing on the couch, on his shoes, on the table. A croaky voice filled the room.

_"Three shall see fear and see fear bereft,_

_Two shall find the lost crown, and one shall be left._

_One will see reward and one will see pain, _

_And three shall unite to lose it again." _

Percy barely got it all down, and he was pretty sure most of the words were misspelled (thanks, Dad, for the dyslexia), but he got most of it written.

"That was weird." Nico commented.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Rachel said with a smirk, and the tension in the room dissipated. Percy could breathe freely again. Admittedly, he hadn't known what the two were bumping heads over, but he hadn't liked it.

He set the pen down and used his hand to toss the notebook onto the table. All three of them closed in on the table and peered down at it.

"What's this word?" Rachel pointed one finger at a scribble on the lined paper.

"Uh, I think it's 'reward'."

"That's what I heard." Nico said. Percy repeated the prophecy a few times in his head, ripped off the sheet and stuffed it into his pocket.

"There's no point musing over it for too long." Rachel murmured. She reached over and pulled the sheet out of Percy's jean pocket, folded it properly, and slid it back in.

"It sounds like we need a third member." Percy pointed out.

"You're. Kidding. Me." Thalia had been hard to track down, harder to contact, and Percy knew the real challenge of getting her to come with them wasn't even near the end.

"We need you." Nico piped up, from the floor of her tent. Wherever they were, it was cold. Nico had worn himself out getting him and Percy there, and was now stretched out on the ground, watching Thalia and Percy talking above his head. The way his eyes drooped, Percy guessed he was about to nod off.

"Why?" She questioned, yet again.

That was something even Percy wasn't sure about. He didn't fully understand why he needed her on his team: maybe because he needed someone he knew, maybe because it was fitting.

"All three of us," he chirped brightly, waving his arm around, "the children of the Big Three, on a quest together!"

"What even is this quest? You have a prophecy, great. I'm not taking a break from hunting for no good reason."

"We have an idea." Percy offered tentatively. He flicked his eyes to Nico, who had fallen asleep.

"You do realize I'm a hunter now, not a camper." Thalia said coldly. She was wearing a white shirt and white cargo pants, had a bow over her shoulder, and had tucked her short hair into a bandana under a tiara.

"That doesn't matter." Percy had checked with others before leaving camp. It didn't matter if you were a hunter, camper, satyr, whatever—all that mattered was that you had a tie to the magical world, and were part god. Thalia fit the bill.

Thalia folded her arms and stared at Percy. He didn't understand the emotion he saw in her eyes.

It was a mix of fear, pity, acceptance, and something else that was harder-edged. It was intimidating.

Thalia broke eye contact first, exhaling hard and rubbing her eyes.

"I'll go, Percy. I'm in." She said. He pumped a fist in the air exuberantly.

"Great. Thanks, Thalia."

"Tell me what the prophecy."

"Three shall see fear and see fear bereft, two shall find the lost crown, and one shall be left. One will see reward and one will see pain, and three shall unite to lose it again." He recited. He had recited it to himself a hundred times before, racking his brains, and he thought he understood part of it.

Thalia wrinkled her nose. "That sounds troubling, Percy. It sounds like only one of us is going to make it out unharmed."

"I noticed." Percy said quietly. In truth, he had learned not to dwell on those things. People were lost on quests, even those that didn't mention it in the prophecy. It was unavoidable, unpredictable, and unescapable.

Thalia nodded. "Tell me what you think you've figured out."

Percy filled her in on what he had come up with that far.

He had talked to Chiron in an Iris-message, and while communication had been difficult (The "How are you doings" were especially turbulent), Percy had gathered something was gone.

Phobos, the god of fear, had lost something valuable. Percy remembered Phobos, faintly, from a quest he had gone on a long time ago with Clarisse. The guy was a jerk of extreme proportions. Phobos wouldn't tell Chiron what was missing; he wanted a couple of demigods. Chiron hadn't sent anyone yet, because no one had volunteered. After the wars volunteers had become rarer.

'_Three shall see fear and see fear bereft._'

Percy, Thalia, and Nico were going to see Phobos, the god of fear, who had lost something. It would be amusing to see Phobos in a state of distress. Percy wasn't sure if deriving feelings of happiness from other's distress was a bad sign, and didn't really care.

"When can you be ready to go?" Percy asked Thalia.

"Give me a couple of hours, before we embark."

"Sure thing."

He could wait a few hours.

**Author's Note:** **An explanation is in order. **

**This chapter was supposed to be longer, but it was TOO long, so I've cut it in half. The other half will be given tomorrow. **

**Also, Thalia! Let me know what you think about this, and feel free to give me some prompts for things you'd like to see. They may show up. **

**As always, guys, enjoy the weather and don't get killed before the next update, I need you. Cool things will appear next chapter, like the break-down I promised, and a 'discussion' about what Nico and Rachel were hinting at. **

**Tobi. **


	5. Chapter 5--Long Road Haul

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO, HOO, or anything associated with the series'.**

**.**

They set out shortly after that. The three of them, Thalia, Nico, and Percy each had a backpack, a weapon, and the clothes on their backs.

The three got on a bus and planned out what buses they'd have to take to get to their destination. Phobos had told Chiron that he'd be waiting in Minnesota. Why the God of fear was living in Minnesota was beyond Percy's understanding, but stranger things had happened. Percy has learned to take things at face value.

So, three of the most powerful demigods of the age found themselves packed like sardines into one bus bench, backpacks between feet, the rest of the bus taken up with random businesspeople and what looked like a bingo club of seniors. Thalia had called dibs on being closest to the door and glared daggers at Percy when he went to put his arm over her shoulder, purely to make more room. As it was, Nico's elbow was jutting into his left side and Thalia's arrows into his right. Nico kept leaning away, to the side, to avoid hitting Percy's still-sore shoulder, which Percy found both infuriating and quite nice, which made it all the more infuriating. The conversation was stilted and uncomfortable, inquiries about the weather and mutual acquaintances and recent undertakings.

Thalia informed them that she'd been hunting down a giant in the Rockies. Her second-in-command hadn't been happy about her leaving for a while, but had seemed to understand. That didn't stop the girl, Clara, from looking at Percy and Nico like she wanted to fire arrows at their knees.

They rode that bus until the last stop, where they switched to a different one and rode that for a while. By then it was nearly midnight, and by popular vote (Percy and Thalia against Nico), they agreed to stop and get a hotel room for the night and get a fresh start in the morning. Otherwise, they'd be traveling all night and most of the next day to get to Phobos, and have to start the real part of the quest exhausted.

.

Backpacks in hand and weapons stashed, the trio stepped into the hotel lobby, weary. Nico took the bags and stood by the back wall, keeping a look out for monsters or nosy people. Percy and Thalia approached the counter to speak to the young lady working there.

"Can I help you?" She inquired politely. Her eyes hovered on Percy's arm—or, no arm—but snapped back up to his face just as fast, smile frozen.

"Yes, we need a room. Two beds." Percy smiled back; choosing to ignore the lady's fleeting glances. He caught Thalia's sudden head turn out of the corner of his eye.

"Two?" She repeated incredulously.

"Two." He firmly said. He knew that he and Nico would end up sharing anyway; why pay for a third?

Thalia furrowed her brow but didn't say anything. When the time came to pay, she snapped her fingers twice, and Percy saw the veil of the Mist fall into place around them. The woman tapped a couple keys.

"Thank you." The lady smiled again, nodding her head and making the hair piled atop her head sway precariously. She handed them two key cards and pointed down the hall.

"That's handy." Percy muttered under his breath to Thalia as they walked away.

"No kidding." She grinned, giving him a lingering glance.

After retrieving Nico, who had been distracted by a fish tank and somehow gotten wedged between the tank of water and the wall, they headed down the hall. Up a flight of stairs and back down the hall, they found their room: 221.

"This is nice." Nico said appreciatively when they stepped inside and flipped the lights on. It was small, and the painting hanging on the wall was frankly horrific, but it was a lot nicer than most of the places Percy had stayed on before. Trailers with zoo animals leapt to mind first. Nico tossed down the bags and flopped himself on the farthest bed, groaning.

"Who's sleeping where?" Thalia asked.

"I assumed you'd want the one closest to the door." Percy motioned toward said door. "Me and Nico will take the other."

"Hmm." Thalia said ambiguously.

"Shower!" Nico declared, rolling off the edge of the bed and hitting the ground with a '_thump_'. He headed off to the bathroom without another word.

"So how long have you two been…?" Thalia trailed off, motioning towards the bed Nico had just vacated.

"Since my arm bit it. Or, should I say, got bit." Percy laughed a bit at his own wit, twisted and pitiful may it be.

"You and Annabeth broke up, right?" she looked at him darkly.

"What? Yes, but why would that matter?" He looked at her, bemused. They both looked at each other, equally confused, until something must have clicked in both skulls.

"Wait, you thought—"

"You guys aren't—"

Both stopped talking and looked at each other, then at the bathroom, where they could hear the water running in the shower.

"It's just sleeping. Honest." Percy didn't know why he was defending himself to her, other than the fact that he had always been somewhat responsible for Nico, and Thalia knew that better than anyone.

"Okay, then. It doesn't matter, to me." She insisted, still giving him that look that said she knew him a lot better than he thought she did. She wrinkled her nose up a bit. "Although, isn't that practically incest?"

Percy snorted. "We're Greek. It'd _hardly _be the most incestuous thing we've done."

She gave a little half-shrug, like, _'that's true.'_

"Nico?" Percy asked her, picking up the original thought again. "You think…?" He didn't finish the sentence, knowing she'd get what he was getting at.

"I think so." She said slowly. "He's never been interested in girls, has he?"

Percy considered it, and then slid it into his mental 'Nico di Angelo' folder. Oddly—or maybe not so oddly—Nico being gay wouldn't be a big dent in Percy's mental sheet.

"Have you seen he fights with two swords, now?" Percy declared, still being stuck in his mental folder.

"No, I didn't know that." Thalia paused for a long moment. It wouldn't have been weird, except she also stopped digging through her bag. It was as if she was weighing options in her mind, and Percy was almost certain she was.

"How's your fighting, now?" She said slowly. Apparently the curious side of her won out in that battle in her head.

"It sucks." There was no point lying, was there? Thalia would know, Thalia would see. "At least I'm still hella powerful." He tacked on the end. That he was.

Thalia threw back her dark head and laughed, teeth catching the light of the overhead. "That you are, Percy; that you are."

.

Morning came too soon and too early, dragging them out of bed to get dressed. Percy knew he didn't get near enough sleep, having been woken up twice by bad dreams and once by Nico, who'd been thrashing and making soft pleading noises. As it was Percy's good dreams were lukewarm at best and featured a lot of running. Percy knew it was likely that the others had had the same trouble.

Curse of the super-strong demigods: you got wicked powers and were never born, but you lost a lot of the people you cared about and you sacrificed a good night's sleep.

_'And a good meal_', Percy added, as he grabbed a couple of waffles from the continental breakfast line and lead the others out of the hotel, back to the grind. He wolfed the waffles at the bus stop. Thalia had been healthy and grabbed an apple and an orange, and was efficiently peeling the orange, having already eaten the apple and thrown the core in a trash can. Nico had a banana stuffed in his back pocket and a tall to-go cup of coffee, and had been slowly sucking down the drink like it was liquid gold.

Three buses and eight hours later, Percy was standing on a street in a small town in Minnesota. Cartographically speaking, Percy had no idea where they were, other than near a lake. He fished the sticky note with Phobos' address out of his pocket, trying to avoid touching the tacky, gritty back.

'651 Frite Street, Kelwinchester, Minnesota." Percy read aloud. He took a double glance at the yellow square.

"Dude lives on 'Frite Street'?" Percy repeated, unbelieving. "That's no coincidence."

"Of course not. He probably lives on that street for the name." Thalia snapped.

"Do coincidences even exist?" Nico mused, like he was talking to himself.

"No." Percy and Thalia both said together.

.

"Niiiccce." Percy drawled, looking up at their destination. The house must have been nice, once upon a time—a cute little one-floor home, but presently it was in a total state of disarray. Clearly nobody had mowed the lawn in a long time, two of the windows had been smashed in, and the mailbox was crooked, like it'd been hit.

A familiar face poked out of one of those broken windows.

"If you guys are the heroes I've been sent, come on in!"

"Is the path safe to walk on?" Thalia yelled back, as Percy eyed the cracked, busted sidewalk and overgrown lawn.

"Nothing's safe!" The voice inside the house yelled out.

"Good point." Percy conceded. He led the way up the path, keeping his gaze fixed on the house and letting the others watch the back and flanks. They'd all been through the basic camp training—they knew the drill.

Phobos was a lot like Percy remembered. He'd aged a few years, from the age of a high school kid to the age of a college student. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket, and sunglasses indoors, something Percy normally would have made fun of. If he remembered correctly, though, Phobos's gaze was something he'd like to avoid, so he was nearly thrilled to have the God keep a lid on those eyes.

The inside of the house was worse than the outside. It looked like Phobos had been throwing parties all week and hadn't bothered to clean up the house after any of them. There were beer cans all over the floor, trash overflowing the bins, pillows cast on every free surface.

Phobos gestured towards the couch in a 'go ahead' motion, and Percy figured, 'why not?' so he sat. Thalia and Nico each took a seat next to him, Nico once again on his bad side.

"Do I know you?" Phobos pointed one long, thick finger at Percy.

"We've met before." Percy was intentionally vague about it. If Phobos didn't remember having a go at him before, this might go smoother than he'd been planning.

Phobos rubbed his temples. "Must not have been important."

Percy tried not to take offense at that and failed. "You said something was missing." He prompted, changing the subject.

"Yes. A sword of mine that I'm rather fond of."

"Is it magical?"

"Not especially. It lends the bearer a certain amount of coolness, but that's just my experience."

"When did you last see it?"

"When that nasty chick my dad hangs out with nicked it off my and hid it."

"Who's that, and where'd she hide it?"

"She's Eris, the goddess of discord. If I knew where she hid it I wouldn't be asking you, idiot."

"That's not a lot to go on."

"The sword has an energy pattern, a bit like that one in your pocket. This one doesn't return to me, though, it returns to the strongest concentration of fear in the U. S. And before you ask where that is, I don't know."

"How are we supposed to find it on that?"

"Not my problem."

Percy took a deep breath and looked away from the sunglasses. Getting angry was no good here. He looked at Thalia and Nico, who had been watching passively up until that point.

"Do you have any suggestions?" Thalia needled at Phobos.

"Yes, actually, I do." Phobos turned towards her. "Write up a list of you three's biggest fears, stick yourself in a room with them, and wait for my sword to show."

"How's that going to work?" Percy and Thalia both asked. Nico leaned back and nodded, like a light bulb had lit up over his head that the other two hadn't gotten just yet.

"We're three of the most powerful demigods alive. We each allow ourselves to feel that much fear at once; we're bound to be the strongest fear signal around."

"So, what, we just need to 'confront and defeat our deepest fears'?" Percy was skeptical. That sounded far to Hallmark-y to be accurate.

"No." Phobos leaned back and yawned. "You can't defeat them, you need to be terrified. Duh."

"Well, that makes sense then." Percy wasn't sure if he was being serious or not.

"Thank you, Mr. Phobos." Nico stood up and pulled the other two up with him. "Come on, we have a list to write."

**.**

**Author's note: this one is about 2/3 the size of a normal chapter, I know. As I previously said, I had to break this up in two, so both were a little short. **

**Hey, hey, Phobos!**

**Sorry, we didn't get to the break-down. Next chapter. I need something to keep you guys reading this, yes?**

**Tobi. **


	6. Chapter 6--Lists and Groceries

**Disclaimer: I'm writing this while drinking hot tea out of an old Snapple bottle, at 11.00 at night, in nothing but sweatpants. Praise whatever deity you will that I don't own Percy Jackson and Co. **

_Previously: _

_"So, what, we just need to 'confront and defeat our deepest fears'?" Percy was skeptical. That sounded far to Hallmark-y to be accurate. _

_"No." Phobos leaned back and yawned. "You can't defeat them, you need to be terrified. Duh."_

_"Well, that makes sense then." Percy wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. _

_"Thank you, Mr. Phobos." Nico stood up and pulled the other two up with him. "Come on, we have a list to write." _

.

"Where now?" Thalia broke the silence outside Phobos' house.

Percy turned to Nico. "Do you have enough energy to get us to my Mom's house?"

Nico chewed on the corner of one hand, seeming to consider. "Yes," he said at length, "but I'll likely pass out as soon as we get there."

"We'll watch your back." Thalia promised. She readjusted her bow on her shoulder. "Will your mom mind us just dropping in?"

"No." Percy said it instantly, before he stopped and thought about it. In truth he was a little nervous about seeing his mom again. The nightmare she had appeared in was still tumbling around in the back of his head, and—to the best of his knowledge—she hadn't heard much about his recent injury, if she had heard anything.

"We need a place to regroup and formulate a plan." Percy reasoned, trying to convince himself more than the others. Thalia was watching Percy carefully, while Nico kept an eye out around them, making sure nothing snuck up on them while Percy was lost in thought.

"Are you ready?" Nico asked. At least, that was what he said; his expression asked '_Are you sure?'_

Percy nodded.

Nico grabbed both Percy and Thalia by their wrists and led them over to the shadows falling from the house next to Phobos's. He took a deep breath, tugged them both in closer and pulled them along into the draining darkness.

Percy slammed back on his feet on the fire escape outside his house. As the full weight of three teenagers dropped onto it, it rocked and clanged ominously. Percy swore colorfully as he grabbed for the railing with his hand that didn't exist, toppling into it and bruising his side. He realized, belatedly, that he hadn't checked on Nico. He turned to see the dark boy being supported by Thalia. She had dropped her bag to grab him under both arms, but he was taller than her, so he was tilted at an unnatural angle. Percy staggered over to them and tucked his arm under Nico's, freeing one of Thalia's so she could snatch up her backpack.

Percy tried the door that led to his bedroom and found it locked. While he would have applauded his mother for her foresight in any other time, right now it was annoying. '_Why did Nico have to stick us here?' _Percy grumbled internally, looking over the side of the rickety stairwell. He knew it was probably because that was the part of the house Nico remembered—the staircase he had shown up on years ago with a plan for Percy to help save the world. That was all very well, except Nico was unresponsive and _heavy_, and Percy was having trouble keeping himself balanced, let alone with another 150 lbs of dead weight, even with Thalia taking half.

"How're we going to do this?" Percy turned to Thalia, hoping she had a plan.

She slapped Nico on one side of his face, before lifting an eyelid to look at the empty, dark pupils. "He's out."

"Hold on, I'll be right back." Percy was hoping his mother hadn't drastically changed her schedule. He took Thalia's bag and passed Nico off to her again, but she just lowered him to the ground. Passed out and flopped on the fire escape, Nico looked dead, and that made Percy's stomach churn to think about. Shelving that for further inspection—or, more likely, further avoidance—Percy clambered down the weakening metal structure and ran around to the front, entering the (thankfully unlocked) front door.

"Mom?" Percy yelled inside, tossing the bags to the side. She hadn't even rearranged since the last time he'd been here. For a minute he stood there and remembered it'd only been a month or so since he last walked through that door. He felt so different, and this place looked to…unchanged.

"Percy? Is that you?" Paul Blofis, Percy's stepdad, came out of the kitchen, astonishment written all over his face. He froze in the doorway. He was wearing a bathrobe over his pajamas, as it was still early, and had a cup of coffee in his hands. Paul raked his eyes over Percy's ripped clothes, and settled them on the cavernous, dangling sleeve.

"Yeah." Percy broke the silence, fidgeting with his jeans pocket. "A monster got my arm."

Paul (bless him, the great man), snapped his mouth shut and nodded, once.

"I need help." Percy straightened and stated the reason why he was here as it bolted to mind.

"Alright." Paul set down his cup and looked at Percy expectantly, and Percy felt suddenly, unbelievably grateful that his mom had ended up with someone like this, who never belittled her or her delinquent son. Like that he found himself hugging the man with his one arm, feeling Paul's surprised jolt, before he settled in and patted Percy's back. '_Okay, I've left those two out there long enough'. _ Percy detangled himself from Paul.

"Can you help me get a friend down here, off the fire escape, and can we stay here for a bit?"

"Yes and yes."

.

Paul didn't ask questions about why Nico was unconscious, or where they were going, or how long they'd be staying. Percy wasn't sure if that was because he was really chill, or if he just didn't want to know what was going on.

"Your mom's out at the store. She should be back in about twenty minutes." Paul informed him as he and Thalia carried Nico down the stairs, followed by Percy with Nico's bag and sword at full draw, watching for nasties that may attack the weaklings.

When they reached the living room Paul took Nico over to the couch and laid him down on it. Nico looked cranky, even when out cold.

"Need anything else?" Paul was clearly getting curious about what was going on, but wasn't asking questions about it.

Percy dropped a smile up at him from his crouching position near Nico. He was trying to guess how long Nico would be out, because they had a lot to plan for.

"Percy," Thalia dropped to her knees next to the couch as well, "maybe we should get started on those lists. You and I can work for a while, and when Nico gets up me and him can work while you rest for a bit, and then you and Nico while I rest."

"I know we got plenty last night," she cut him off before he could say anything, "but a little more won't hurt, and that might be easier than working out of fears in a group." Her vivid blue eyes bored into Nico's closed eyelids, as if she could see past them.

"Paper, then?" Paul broke in from the kitchen doorway. He was gradually working through an apple while watching the scene unfold. Percy tried to envision it through his eyes: new-amputee stepson and punk/Legolas-wannabe-girl crouching next to an unconscious guy in all black, with two freaking-huge swords sticking out from behind him. On that thought Percy leaned up and slipped the swords out of their holster, carefully sliding the bone one under the couch pillow under Nico's head where he'd reach for it when he woke, and curling the other guy's hand around the shiny black one and tucking that one in close to his body.

Thalia and Paul were both looking at him oddly, as if it were weird to arm the knocked-out teenager. "What?" He said defensively. "He likes to sleep with them."

Paul mumbled something into his coffee and Thalia shook her head. "Like a teddy bear." She muttered, seemingly to herself. Then, to Paul, "Paper would be lovely." She shot the man a 30 watt smile.

Paul returned a minute later with a notebook and a few pens, which he handed to Percy. Percy promptly fumbled the pens, not being able to grab it all. Muttering, he swept them all together again.

"Here." Percy handed Thalia a pen and used his teeth to help him rip a couple sheets out of the notebook. "What are we supposed to put down?"

"Write your biggest fears. Put three or four down—we can always remove a couple if we need to."

Percy realized that he hadn't any idea what his biggest fears were. He looked down at the glaringly blank, lined page and thought.

'The dark.' Percy wrote down in his rough, scratchy scrawl. He shuddered just thinking of it. He could hear Thalia's soft scratching noise as she wrote down something.

'Losing my family.' He wrote on the next line down, as he heard the clinking of Paul in the kitchen, studiously avoiding the den of demigods.

Percy flicked his eyes up to Thalia. She was chewing on the edge of her thumbnail and staring at the paper, as if she weren't just afraid of the things she had written down, but was also afraid of the fact she had written them. Percy wasn't going to let himself be afraid of writing down what he was afraid of.

'Being useless.' He scratched onto the clean, white surface. If he was doing this, why do it by halves?

Nico exhaled harshly, brow knitting. Percy watched him for a moment, watched Nico's chest rise and fall in a familiar pace.

'Nico hating not caring about not needing me.' Percy had to scratch it out twice before he managed to get the fear out on paper accurately. It seemed odd to him that he didn't have that fear about anyone else, but that was probably because he knew Annabeth and the rest of the demigods didn't need him anymore. The only person who seemed to need him was Nico, and he couldn't lose that.

'Drowning.' He put below that.

He racked his brains and dropped his pen so he could rub his eye. That was it. That was all he could think of, all the fears he could collect.

He dropped his head to the papers on the ground, bending in half. He just relaxed and breathed for a while, listening to nothing but the sound of Thalia's writing.

Behind him, the door clicked open and then shut.

"Paul? They didn't have that brand cereal you like, so I bought the…" she trailed off when she noticed Percy. Her eyes went wide and she dropped her purse on the table and bags on the floor, thoughtlessly.

"Percy." She breathed.

"Hi, Mom." He staggered to his feet and took her in. She looked good, happy, hair flying away and shirt only half tucked-in, but so very happy. He threw himself at her, wrapping his arm around her middle. She set one hand on the back of his head, and the other—tenderly—around his side where there wasn't an arm. She gripped him tight and rocked back and forth for a second. She pressed kisses on his forehead, having to stand on her toes to do so.

"Oh, Percy. My baby." She said, holding him close. He felt some of the tension, the stress, melt away. She didn't think he was useless now; he had known she wouldn't, because he knew her, but that hadn't stopped the irrational fear from eating at him.

"What's this about?" She asked quietly, holding him at arm's length.

"A drakon bit my arm off." His stomach roiled slightly as he told her.

"I see that." She said teasingly. "I was actually asking about you and your friends." She looked behind him, at Thalia and Nico. "Hello, Thalia." She said.

"Hello." Thalia responded. She had picked up Percy's sheet of paper and was scanning it.

Sally ran her hand back through Percy's dark locks, trying to sweep his hair into something resembling order. She gently ran her other hand over his bad shoulder, feeling the smooth break of where his arm was and now wasn't. Her face looked sad, but not angry or disappointed. For that by itself Percy pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"It's okay, Mom." He reassured her. "I'm dealing with it."

"I see that." She released herself from his grip and picked the bags back up. Percy grabbed one, too, and took it into the kitchen.

"How long are you in the neighborhood?" Sally inquired casually. Paul had apparently gone back up to bed, or hopped in the shower, because the kitchen was empty save them.

"Until we get a plan sorted. Do you mind?"

Sally gave him a bittersweet look as she stacked things in the fridge. "I never mind you staying here, Percy. Anytime."

Percy choked up a little, but breathed out through it. He knew he had the best mom ever.

"Mom, I love you." Percy couldn't bear not having said it for a moment longer. Sally closed the fridge and turned back to him.

"I love you too, Percy." She reached for him, but he stepped back. He had to check, needed to see.

"Do you think I'm useless?" He whispered it, closing his eyes against her gaze, partially to block in tears. He was not going to cry. This was stupid, he knew she didn't, surely she didn't she was his _mom_; she would love him no matter what, right?

Right?

"Oh, Percy." He felt delicate hands rest on his shoulders, and just fell to pieces.

"I'm sorry." He gasped out, as his hand scrabbled along the counter behind him for purchase to keep from falling. He didn't know if he was apologizing for crying, or for showing up here and now, like this, or for having put himself in this position in the first place like an _idiot_.

"I'm so sorry." He repeated, tasting the salt of tears in the corners of his mouth when he spoke. He felt his mother shaking her head next to his, wiping at his face and holding him.

For some reason, that just made him cry harder. He was hiccupping, trying to get more air and not managing, because his throat was all tightened. His pulse was jackhammering in his ears, blocking out his mom's soothing words. Some of them filtered through.

"Perseus, honey, no, you are so much more than that, you're not useless. You will never be useless. I love you, it's okay." She kept repeating that, like repetition would burst through the walls of his self-imposed prison of sorrow.

She kept rubbing his back in comforting circles and mumbling to him reassuringly until he hiccupped out.

He felt cleaner, less miserable. It was as if the tears had swept some of the bad away, and now he felt ridiculous for sobbing in the middle of the kitchen.

He laughed, coughing.

"Better?" His mom wiped some tears off her own face. It seemed that his mom got sympathetically tearful.

"Much better." Percy remarked, more to himself than her.

They stood there for a moment, letting the tension in the air dissipate. Percy pressed another kiss to his mom's soft cheek and walked over to the sink, splashing cold water on his face. Percy squeezed his mom's arm, once, and went back to his friends, needing to escape the kitchen and emotion, and fast.

Percy sat down next to Thalia and leaned his back up against the couch where Nico still slept. He knew she knew he had been falling apart in the kitchen, because he had been quite loud and his face was surely all blotchy. She didn't say a thing, just gave him a soft smile, like, '_It's shit, I know._' Thalia handed over two papers—one his own list, one hers.

He scanned back over his own list—the dark, losing his family, Nico not needing him, drowning—before tucking that sheet behind Thalia's. Her handwriting was a lot neater than his, so he could read it easily.

_"Heights."_ That was the first one written. He was the first person to discover that, back when he had been traveling with her, Bianca, and Zoë. Good times.

_"Falling in love."_ Her loopy handwriting had shaken a bit on this one, like it had been difficult to get down.

Percy had always suspected that Thalia had loved Luke as more than a friend, and couldn't imagine the pain she had gone through when he had gone over to Kronos's side and then died. If Annabeth were to ever do that, well, Percy would have been a wreck. It was no wonder she was scared of being vulnerable like that again.

_"Being responsible for a death of my hunters."_ This one was written stronger, nearly where the pen had pushed through the paper. Percy took notice of the fact she wrote 'my hunters' instead of 'a hunter'. She must really feel responsible for them. Percy knew the feeling of being responsible for people, and the terror that came with knowing you may harm them unintentionally.

Thalia gently pulled the paper out of Percy's grasp and scrawled one more onto the list.

_"Seeing Percy die." _

Percy's eyes closed and opened again. Some part of him knew that Thalia had felt brotherly toward him, and that he reminded her of Jason, who she lost. Or, lost again. It was one thing to suspect, and another to see it written down.

"Do you—" Percy cleared his throat and tried again, meeting her electric eyes. "Do you want to talk about this now?" he tapped the paper, now on the ground between them, making sure his finger hit the last item. He needed to know if she wanted to explain why that fear was there, even if he didn't need—or want—to hear it.

She smiled wryly. "Only if you want to talk about this." She tapped the second-to-last item on his list: Nico not needing him.

That was an insistent 'no'. He couldn't comprehend by himself why that was a fear he had, let alone put it into words and then those words into something Thalia could grasp.

Like that, it was understood that those two fears weren't going to be considered just yet. They may have had to be looked at another time, but not right then. Percy scooted closer to Thalia until their shoulders brushed, Thalia not pulling away, and the two sat there, lost in thought.

.

When Nico woke up about an hour after that, Percy left his paper behind with Thalia and walked to his bedroom. He wasn't anxious about Nico seeing his list, as the two of them would have to go over it when he woke up. He was curious to see how Nico reacted to being one of the fears on his list, if indirectly. By 'curious', Percy of course meant 'vaguely interested but detached'.

Being curious was too much work, and he was too tired.

His mom and Paul had gone off to work about twenty minutes before, after asking if the teens needed anything and requesting the three not burn or break the house. It was a bit like being a normal teenager, who may have just thrown a party or got into the alcohol. Percy wasn't a normal teenager by a long shot, but it was nice to pretend that the worst thing he could do home alone was to get into the alcohol. As if alcohol was a temptation.

His room was just as he left it—fairly empty, but with a made bed and random blue things stacked around. There was a thin layer of dust on some of the shelves, but not as much as he would have suspected. His mom must have dusted a couple of times.

Percy dropped onto the bed with a groan, toeing off his shoes and sliding under the covers. He winced as he bumped the mattress with his left shoulder, but fell asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow.

It was Thalia who woke him up around lunch-time. He hadn't checked a clock before falling asleep, but he felt less lethargic. In contrast, Thalia looked like she'd been run through a wringer. Her hair was all mussed up, like she'd been tugging at it, and she looked scared.

"Percy." She breathed, when he opened his eyes.

"What?" Percy croaked back, pushing himself up.

"You were screaming." She was searching his face. Percy felt his stomach drop slightly.

"Was i?" He stood up and stretched. He couldn't even hold on to most of his nightmares anymore. When he woke up they slipped like sand through his fingers.

"Get some food and look over Nico's list. I'm going to get some shut-eye." Thalia finally stopped checking Percy's face for signs of distress and set her bow next to his bed before sliding in it.

"Sure." Percy grinned down at her. "Sleep tight."

After a peanut-butter sandwich, Percy headed into the living room to join Nico. The Ghost King still looked a bit haggard, but not as bad as before. He was sitting on the couch, three sheets of paper spread out on the coffee table, which he had apparently scooted in closer to the couch for easier use.

Percy sat down on the couch next to Nico. He glanced over his and Thalia's lists, glanced at Nico, and picked up the one that must have been his. If Percy's handwriting was bad, Nico's was abysmal. The fact that it was written in Greek was helpful, so he didn't have to decipher as he read like with Thalia's. Even without the dyslexia it was hard to read.

_"Silence."_ Percy saw, in his mind's eye, the radio in the kitchen that was always on, the small pebble in his room back at Nico's that hummed when tapped, and his breath whooshed out of him.

"Is that because of Tartarus? The fear of silence?" That was the best explanation, to Percy. Traveling through that hell pit had left Percy afraid of the dark—it was only logical it would leave fear behind in Nico, this time in the form of silence.

"Yes." Nico was staring at the other two lists on the table, as if trying to commit them to memory. _'I should do that, too.'_ Percy mused.

_"Being unwanted."_ Percy stared at that fear for an uncommonly long time. Bianca leaving for the Hunters, Percy's own stupid actions, Hades' and his god complex—there was any number of reasons why Nico would be afraid of that. Percy wished he could have filed it in his own mind as an irrational fear, but it was far too true and likely. Percy wished instead that Nico would never have to see that fear realized again.

"_Percy finding out about the Archeron."_ That last sentence on Nico's list had been scratched out violently, and re-written exactly the same. Percy could see Nico very clearly, writing it, deciding he didn't want that written down, and then adding it back again out of a sense of duty.

"Me finding out what about the Archeron?" Percy set the paper back on the table softly, like it was a glass sheet that might break. He turned to look at Nico, who met his eyes defiantly.

"Finding out why I was there and what it does."

"Why would that be a secret?"

"I told you I swam in it on accident."

"Yes…?"

"I lied. I jumped off a cliff. The river was less dangerous than I had anticipated."

"_Less dangerous?_ Why the hell would you jump off a cliff into a dangerous river?" Percy repeated, uncomprehending.

As Nico stared at him darkly, the figurative light bulb went off above his head, and he felt nauseous and angry at once.

"You were trying to kill yourself?!"

.

**Authors note: Just a reminder, guys, suicide's not ever the answer. Nico was wrong. I warned you in the summary, though, so I don't want to hear griping. These characters are, frankly, a bit fucked-up right now and will be for a while yet. **

**Next update should be coming in four—five days, to get me back on track. As always, I love to hear your feedback. **

**Tobi. **


	7. Chapter 7--Conversations

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I don't own it. **

**.**

_Previously:_

_"Less dangerous? Why the hell would you jump off a cliff into a dangerous river?" Percy repeated, uncomprehending. _

_As Nico stared at him darkly, the figurative light bulb went off above his head, and he felt nauseous and angry at once. _

_"You were trying to kill yourself?!"_

.

Percy rubbed his forehead, frustrated. He didn't know what to ask. Why would Nico have jumped? What could have possibly driven him to the point of ending his own life?

"How could you?" That—that was the part Percy couldn't comprehend. He knew, in theory that Nico had to have been troubled enough. _Why_ wasn't even the question.

But _how_ could Nico have risked taking himself from them all?

Away from Hazel, who had already lost so much?

Away from Thalia, who felt responsible for Nico a lot like she felt responsible for Percy, and if one of them were to die, she'd feel like she'd lost Jason, again?

Away from _Percy, _who needed him, desperately_?_

"How could you do that to me?" Percy whispered angrily.

Nico looked away, rubbing a piece of the carpet.

"I was low. You didn't, I mean, none of you," he made a low noise, like he was grabbing for the words but couldn't reach them, "none of you understood."

"We understood!" Percy nearly yelled, catching himself at the last minute—he didn't want Thalia to wake up and come here, now. It occurred to him that she _knew_, because she had seen Nico's list before he did and surely would have asked, wanted to know.

"No." Nico said quietly. "You don't know, just as I don't know what it was like to live your life. I made my choice, and never had to make the decisions you did,"

Percy's mind's eye he saw the dark dungeon of Hades' dark castle. For the longest time he had always seen it as having been a betrayal—but that wasn't it, was it?

Nico had thought up the plan of the River Styx. Without that plan, Percy could never have defeated the army up to Kronos, if Kronos wasn't his victory.

Nico had turned him over to Hades.

Nico had broken him out of jail, betraying his own father to get Percy free.

Percy remembered a saying he had heard from Leo, that day, as the wind snatched at their clothes as if trying to drag them off, like it was trying to make a deal with whoever's in charge of those things. '_Take these two, give us Jason back'_.

"The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies." Leo said it softly, so that only Percy could hear him. That alone made Percy feel what Leo was feeling, his best friend gone; Leo, loud, fun Leo who always had a wrench and a joke in a back pocket and wore his heart on his sleeve (or so Percy had thought), was saying deep things that hit like punches, in a quiet voice.

Nico had betrayed people, and betrayed Percy the day he walked out and decided to kill himself. The saddest thing was: Percy could see where he was coming from, and that alone scared him more than the dark ever could.

"I understand how." Percy swallowed hard, and rubbed at his eyes, which weren't crying out of emotional upheaval but just sore, and that was making it water. "Now, I want to know why."

Nico laughed dully. "You sure you want to know?"

Percy thought. He really, truly did.

Didn't Nico deserve secrets? Percy had lived most of his life having other people's noses in his business, was it fair to demand answers from Nico?

Maybe not. Did Percy care whether it was fair or not?

"I want to know. But only tell me," Percy added hastily, "if you want to. And I don't want you to lie to me."

"I don't lie." Nico said coldly. Before Percy's eyes, he seemed to melt a little—his shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head, winding his fingers around each other. He closed his eyes and his face scrunched up, letting the blank, distant face he'd been wearing fall away.

"In the end it came down to three things: I know death, intimately—everyone I've ever loved had left me—and there was nothing, nothing, left for me at that time."

"Explain." Percy prompted. He didn't want to look at Nico right now, but he needed to know.

He needed to know it wasn't going to happen again, and he needed to know what he had done to let it happen in the first place.

"I live among the dead. I hear them; I know what they feel and what they know. Do you know what they remember about their lives, Percy?" He didn't give me a chance to answer. "They don't remember anything."

"The ones in Elysium do." Percy remembered having heard that from someone at camp, an encouragement to someone who had lost a friend.

"Not my problem." Nico smiled, wide and crooked, like the Cheshire cat in that mortal story about the girl. "I knew I wouldn't make it to Elysium."

Percy didn't know how the laws of the underworld went, and if suicide immediately barred you from considering having died a hero's death. If Nico couldn't make it, very few people would have a chance.

"I've seen death. I know death better than I do my own father. Death doesn't scare me."

He was quiet for a moment. Percy could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, like crickets in the silence. After a moment he prompted Nico to start sharing again. "You said you thought everyone you ever loved left?"

"You know, Percy—you've seen."

"I saw your mom die, reluctantly. I saw Bianca cruelly taken away. Your dad's a dick. Hazel still loves you and hasn't left." Percy rattled off, trying to prove that Nico was wrong, in this.

"My mom," he hesitated, "she didn't want to leave. Bianca chose to go, before she died. She joined the Hunters. My dad's a dick, yes. Hazel loves me but, let's face it, she'd rather not be around me most of the time. She has Frank, and I make Frank nervous." Nico looked proud at that, as if it was a good thing that he scared his sister's boyfriend. "Jason bit it," Percy startled, "And you avoided me like the plague, until I was useful to you, which hurt like hell, you bastard. Sounds a bit different put like that, huh?"

"A bit." Percy found himself wringing his own hands.

"Are you going to ask me about that?" Nico was watching him, apprehensive.

Percy wanted to, badly. But he knew he couldn't deal with any more, well, feelings. "Later. You said you thought there was nothing left for you." He stressed the word 'thought'.

"I thought there wasn't. There wasn't—there is now, though." He seemed to grin for a moment, not the bitter-cruel one, but the real one that squinted-up the left side of his face and showed the crooked teeth near the back of his mouth. It made Percy's heart tighten, a bit; the fact that this smile was hardly ever seen was disheartening.

"I built myself something to live for." He muttered, still smiling, and Percy saw exactly how proud Nico was of everything he had achieved.

"You became the main strategist for Hades' army." Percy supplied what he knew of Nico's life.

"I did. I built myself houses, got Jeeves, and became important down there. I've been going to medical school; did you know?"

"I knew you knew some medical stuff, but I didn't know it was that . . . entitled."

"It hardly is entitled."

"Wait, you never even got a middle or high school education!"

"I don't actually enroll in the classes." Nico rolled his eyes, like, '_Enroll in the classes you take, not likely'_.

"Then what do you do?"

"I shadow-travel into the classroom, take notes, listen to all the lectures." He flashed the crooked, teeth-showing smile again. "I'm very talented."

The air grew quiet again, and then quickly stale. Percy floundered around for something to say.

"Are you okay? I mean, it's not going to happen again." Percy didn't allow Nico a chance to deny it. "Please don't let it happen again."

"I'm fine. I'm _happy._ It's not going to happen again. Percy," Nico ducked his head, trying to catch Percy's eyes, but Percy kept looking away, "It is not going to happen again."

Finally, Percy looked up, burning his gaze through Nico. _'If you're lying to me,'_ he projected the thought from his own sea-green eyes to Nico's dark ones, '_I will track you down in that creepy underworld and I will kill you, again.'_

"Make sure it doesn't." He warned out loud.

"I need, um," Nico waved off in the direction of the kitchen, "To not be here." He finished, apparently decided to not bother with collecting an excuse.

"Have a sandwich." Percy suggested, needing some space as well. "They seem to be good for avoiding confrontation."

"Think for a bit." Nico suggested. He looked happier, freer, having gotten things off his chest. Percy knew he felt like he was lighter, looking down at three sheets of paper that held their biggest fears.

.

After noon, Nico left a note and shadow-traveled to a lecture in the East side on the cardiovascular system.

"Eew. So, blood and stuff?" Percy joked from behind a glass of coke. Things seemed normal again between Nico and Percy, or as normal as it had ever been—which was still dysfunctional.

"Yes. I like to work with blood and stuff." Nico said dryly.

After he had gone Percy hopped in the shower, delighting in the fact that there was proper soap and warm water, and no teeth imbedded in the tile, which was something that had startled him when he noticed it back in the shower in Hades.

He leaned back against the wall, water rushing over his stomach, and felt around his bad shoulder.

It still hurt, constantly, which he forgot to notice a lot of the time. It was like having a bruise or a splinter that you forget the pain of, only much larger. Then there was the sharp pain, the agonizing split that tore through his side and across his ribs when he touched at it. It was like his nerves were throwing hissy-fits at being touched, like tiny Thalia's in his arm.

Maybe that was a bad analogy.

There were still stitches in his arm that Nico would have to take out at some point. The thread was thin black stuff, doubled-back on itself for strength. Thankfully the area had stopped bleeding a while ago, because demigod blood was worse that bright neon flags in trees declaring him to be highly edible to any nearby monsters.

Once Percy felt scrubbed clean, he shut off the water and wandered back into the living room, dressed in a different set of clothes he had snuck in and snatched out of his dresser while Thalia slept on.

Percy closed his eyes and opened them again, walking in a circle around the room.

Thalia was sleeping in his room, looking finally at peace, but only in rest. He had noticed when he went in that she had put on her own camp necklace, and had another wrapped around her ankle. He had stared at it for a moment, and at first he thought it was Jason's, put Jason has only had one bead on his necklace, and this one had more than a handful. That meant it could only be Luke's. He wished he hadn't noticed.

Nico was off getting an education, and that scared him, and the fact that it scared him scared him. Because at first, he thought it was because Nico was gathering more knowledge, and Nico was already one of the most powerful people he'd known and he kept adding to that, but then he realized what the real reason it scared him was. Nico had a future, a plan, something to work at.

Percy had never bothered to plan much beyond the wars. The first war, the Titan War, had come so fast before he had time to muse on such things. The only time he considered his life beyond that had been when he was certain he was going to lose it. Luke had taken the cursed blade, in the end, and Percy had thought he could be hopeful. The second war, the war with Gaia, had built more, but he hadn't let himself think about it much, and when he did he thought about the wrong things.

He planned out to live with Annabeth, just to find, when all the fuss had died down, that she had been his best friend and first love, but not his _love,_ with all the pressure and inflections thrown onto that word.

He wondered if there was a _love_ out there.

Now he was left wandering. He had been working at the camp, training other kids to use a sword like he'd been taught. He still though of Luke, when he walked through the doorway, Luke who first taught him to use a sword. That was before he lost the arm, though, he thought ruefully. There wasn't much teaching to impart now.

Maybe he'd go into something aquatic, like fishing or sailing. He could do that.

A wave of homesickness rose in him, which made him feel sick—not because he disliked the feeling of homesickness, but because he was standing in the living room of the house he had always considered home, but because as he felt the achy tugging feeling it occurred to him that this wasn't the home he belonged to anymore.

His feet moved before he had even considered his next moves. He fished through his jacket pockets until he found one dulled golden drachma. He walked into the kitchen, palming the coin, and turned the sink on sprayer before using some of his power to filter a thin sheet of water droplets up in front of the window.

There was the rainbow he had been searching for.

He flicked the golden circle through the arc of color and recited the prayer, hoping Iris would take the offering.

She did, and after a moment's wait he found himself looking at a foggy, misty, churning version of the inside of the Athena cabin, at Camp Half-Blood. His knees felt weak and he grabbed the counter with his arm to keep himself steady.

He could barely make out Annabeth's elbow in the corner of the frame, and was amused by the fact that he knew it was hers from just that. One of her siblings must have seen Percy, because someone said her name and she turned around and, gods.

Her hair was curling and tucked up into ponytail and her grey eyes were so familiar. She looked tired, but not upset or sad. She looked at Percy, then at her siblings, and Percy heard the rustling of a few kids beating hasty exits. Percy tried for smile.

"Hey, Wise Girl." He said, but his voice broke and he had to look away for fear of getting watery-eyed.

"Hey, Seaweed Brain." She responded in kind, and they just looked at each other for a moment.

That was always the brilliant thing about Annabeth, when it came ot loss. Some people wanted to reassure, to make everything better, and they couldn't. other's didn't want to be around it, like pain and suffering were contagious and maybe they weren't aware of how to deal with people who had lost something. Annabeth just stood and offered silence, and a grey-eyed gaze that said '_I love you_', in the purest way.

"I'm on a quest, and I wanted to check in on you." He offered an explanation, even though he knew he didn't owe her one.

"I'm glad you did. I tried to Iris-message you a couple of times, but I guess it doesn't work in the underworld." She tried to explain. Then her gaze softened, and she looked at his arm, where there wasn't an arm. "How are you doing, with that?"

It occurred to Percy that this, here, was the first time the two of them had spoken since 'that' had happened. He had thought about her enough that it seemed like it wasn't.

"Good." He said automatically, but she caught him with the expression that said she knew better. "I'm getting there." He corrected himself, and she smiled.

"I'm glad. You know, you need to talk, dial me. Anytime." She insisted, and he saw her eyes were glimmering a bit and it wasn't the sheet of water between them.

"I'm glad, now stop." He said, only partially kidding, "You're going to make me cry, and I've done enough of that these past days."

"You're on a quest with Thalia and Nico?" Annabeth sensed what he was getting at, and switched the subject. She was smart like that.

"Yes, we've got to find something that jerk Phobos lost. We've got a game plan; we're waiting until tomorrow to put it into motion."

"What's the plan?" He knew this about Annabeth: she liked to know people's plans and strategies, she gathered them like people collected other things.

"The sword is attracted to the highest concentration to fear in the U.S."

"It's an energy return." Annabeth said approvingly. Then she frowned, "How can you possibly know where the highest fear concentration is?"

"We're going to bring it to us. We're planning on exposing ourselves to most of our biggest fears, get ourselves really terrified, and wait for the sword to show."

"You sure that's a good idea?"

"Nope."

She laughed. "Well, be careful. I don't want you three to get too worked up, that's a lot of power."

"Carefully." Percy pretended to scoff. "Careful is no fun!"

They talked for a few more minutes about lighter things, about how mutual acquaintances were and the weather and between that and the previous conversation with Nico, he felt lighter than he had in a long time.

"I should go now. Love you." She blew him a kiss.

"Bye, love you." After the circle faded he turned off the water.

He should finish planning for the next day. He still had to figure out how they were going to work some of the fears, had to polish his sword, and had to tell his mom he wouldn't be back in a while.

.

Dinner that night was awkward. Paul and his mom made small talk, Thalia didn't talk much, and Nico kept stealing food off her plate when she wasn't looking.

Eventually Percy found himself talking about the past while in the underworld, with his mom and Paul asking questions. It was funny, as they kept asking about normal parent things, and he had never seen them as normal parental figures.

"Are you eating enough?" His mom asked, sounding worried, like she thought he was starving or something.

"Yes, more than enough—A lot of fruit."

"You're not going to get stuck down there, right?" Paul busted in, clearly recalling the story of Persephone and the pomegranate just as Percy had.

"Nope. I like it down there, anyway. It's quiet."

"Is there anything to do, like, hobbies?"

"Walking, fighting," Percy smiled around a mouth of corn, "I slept a lot of the time."

"Oh, are you," Sally looked at Thalia and Nico, as if they might volunteer the word she was looking for, "sleeping okay? No nightmares?"

In another world, Percy might have been embarrassed by his mom's gentle interrogation. As it was, he didn't embarrass easily.

"I still get them a lot. I think I'm a lot louder, now." Percy looked to Nico, as he had (obviously) never heard himself yelling in his sleep, but Nico and Thalia had both mentioned it.

Nico shrugged, slipping a roll off of Thalia's plate. "You've gotten a lot better. You still thrash like nothing, though." He added.

Percy saw, out of the corner of his eye, Paul's head spin to Sally so fast it was lucky he didn't get a crick in it. His expression was more confused than concerned, but Sally didn't look much better. She glanced from Nico to Percy like she was trying to read something between lines, before she flicked her eyes to Thalia questioningly. Thalia shook her head.

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Percy said, exasperated. "We're not," he flailed for a moment, feeling his mom's curious eyes on him, as he tried to find a word for what he knew his mom was wondering, before giving up. His vocabulary had failed him for a word to describe him and Nico. "We're not! It's just sleeping!" He repeated what he had told Thalia.

"Alright, Percy." His mom nodded, looking unperturbed. Paul was still looking at Nico and Percy, squinting slightly, and Thalia looked amused. Percy chanced a look at Nico, who looked about ten levels of confused.

"I'll explain later." Percy muttered to him. "Pass the corn." He said, louder.

.

"Mom, we're going tomorrow. Early." He said that night, before going to bed.

She brushed his hair back and to the side. "I'll miss you. Visit when you can." She pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I will. Goodnight, mom."

That night Thalia took the couch and Percy and Nico shared the bed, after packing things to be ready to go in the morning.

Percy didn't get near enough sleep, chewing his lip worrying about the next day and the troubles it held.

.

.

**Author's Note: Not a lot of action in this chapter. I wanted to get some conversation and character development presented. **

**Next chapter: fear and a hella lot of it. Weeee. **

**Tobi. **


	8. Chapter 8--Copper and Gold

**Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson, or the bands mentioned, or this awesome body I'm possessing…**

**.**

_Previously: _

_That night Thalia took the couch and Percy and Nico shared the bed, after packing things to be ready to go in the morning. _

_Percy didn't get near enough sleep, chewing his lip worrying about the next day and the troubles it held. _

.

"I have an idea." Thalia announced. The three of them were on a park bench. They knew, thanks to years of quests or—In Nico's case, hiding out—that park benches were the best place for discussing quests. People didn't stop to listen, and the noise of others, walking, footsteps and conversations, blocked out the sound for anyone who could be listening.

"Good." Percy had realized that morning that the majority of their fears were abstract and would be hard to replicate enough to where they would be scared. Thus, the three had been brainstorming for a couple of hours, throwing out ideas as they thought of them. "What is it?"

"There's an artifact, an old thing of Ares's. It can be used to make a fear potion."

"That sounds perfect." Percy said, irritated. Why hadn't she brought that up before!? He scratched furiously at the top of his shoulder, because where it really itched—down at the bottom, near the wrist—wasn't attached to his body. It was just more phantom pains.

"It's in a museum." She drawled slowly. She poked at Nico, who had fallen asleep on the grass near them. He'd been summoning dead people for a while, trying to find any ways of completing the mission. As Thalia's skinny finger prodded him, he twitched and mumbled crankily in his sleep.

"Leave him alone." Percy scratched harder at his shoulder, hoping the itch would go away. "You said a museum?"

"Yes, in New York."

"Can we rob it?"

"We can try."

"I think," Percy paused and stared down at his hand. _Is this really what I've come to?_ He asked himself. _Stealing from museum?_

"I think that's our best option." He said, at length. _Life: 1. Morals: 0. _

"Me too." Thalia agreed. "Nico?"

Nico snuffled and opened one eye with a jerk. "What? Oh, I agree with," he waved his hand at the other two half-heartedly, "everything. Yes."

Percy laughed. "We're thinking of breaking into a museum to get an artifact that will help, a lot."

"Oh." Nico propped himself up, all lean muscle and black clothes. "You know I'm always down with thievery."

Thalia rolled her eyes. "Let's go case the joint."

.

The bus ride from Minnesota to New York was long.

Percy sat across from Nico and Thalia, squished between two Japanese girls who had a rapid conversation in front of, behind, and across him. Percy kept his eyes nearly closed, barely squinting, keeping constant vigilance on the bus and the people.

He spent the time watching his companions in what he hoped was a subtle manner, but probably wasn't, judging from the looks him seatmates were giving him. At least they weren't ogling his arm.

Thalia kept touching her beaded necklace, with this odd, vulnerable look on her face. Out of the dozens—hundreds—of words Percy had do describe Thalia, one he never wanted to associate with her was _vulnerable_. Her eyes, such stormy, passionate eyes, looked fragile as she gazed out of the bus window to her left. Percy saw in his mind's eye (cruelly sharp, finely-detailed) Thalia, curled around herself on his bed, a necklace around her neck—reminding her of the life she gave up—and a necklace around her ankle—reminding her of the love she lost before she could have it. That Thalia had been vulnerable too.

Nico had tilted his head back to lean against the bus window, so his face was all chin and cheekbones and dark eyelashes brushing dark fringe of hair. He had his swords strapped to his back again. He was wearing a nearly black T-shirt that once advertised a band, but was so worn it was hard to read what the band was. That and his jeans, which Percy was pretty sure Nico had been wearing for three days now without wash. It was hard for Percy to tell, because they all the pairs Nico owned (which was like, three) looked almost the same. Percy knew one pair had a missing back pocket, but other than that, Nico could have been wearing the same clothes every day for weeks. The thought was a bit miserable. Tilted back against the window, chest rising and falling with each breath, Nico looked. . .serene, in a way Percy hadn't seen anyone, or any war-people, as he'd taken to thinking about them, look in a while.

It was hard to match this Nico, the soft-eyelashed-worn-jeans-serene-Nico, up with the Nico he remembered seeing years ago, or the Nico that Nico had been inbetween, that Percy didn't get to see often because he was busy or preoccupied or just plain stupid.

_"And_ _you avoided me like the plague, until I was useful to you, which hurt like hell, you bastard_." Nico had called him on it. Percy didn't know, hadn't thought, and hadn't wanted to think about it— Nico was a reminder of the people who were darkened or changed or even lost to death in the war. At least, Nico-between-points-A-and-B was. The younger Nico, the little doe-eyed boy in the too-big armor, holding Mythomagic cards, was a reminder of how Percy had failed. The Nico after that (Percy knew it wasn't the same Nico, just as he knew he wasn't the same Percy, and Thalia wasn't the same Thalia) had been a reminder of the war and the things Percy had lost to that war.

But that stage had moved; that Nico had left the building along with Elvis and whoever else left, not to be seen again. And the optimistic Percy had started to die on the battlefield next to Jason and finished the process on that street next to a drakon.

Unbidden, the memory lurched to mind as if the bus had pulled to a stop.

Silence, a haunting silence where there had been the screeching metal of fighting, scared Percy more than any scream of pain.

Because minutes ago there had been a rallying call, a crackling static, a low murmur, and the hair on the back of Percy's neck had stood on end.

Wrong filled the air. It was peaceful, Percy should've been ecstatic, but the peace came at way, way too high a price.

Because there, yards away on the grass, which was far too bright and alive, vivid green painted with scarlet and a blonde boy in a shirt that should have been purple but was only purple around the edges because of the blood soaking through it.

"Please." Jason had looked past Piper—who looked empty as she recognized that there was no charm-speaking the boy she loved back from this grave—right to Percy. Eyes as blue as the sky and filled with pain met eyes as green as the Mediterranean and filled with heartbreak.

And he was heartbroken, because he loved Jason like a brother, because while Jason was annoying and too strict about rules he was _good_, and Percy had fought him and fought alongside him and fought for him. Jason was begging him for something Percy couldn't bear, and his heart was breaking.

"_Now approaching Terminal 5."_ The intercom interrupted, and Percy was back in the present. The present sucked, but not as bad as that part of his past.

Percy looked back at Thalia. She'd been there. She'd been injured herself, unable to help, and Percy didn't know how she could look at him and not see a monster, not hate his guts.

Maybe she was like Nico, and she hated him as much as she loved him. He thought that wasn't likely, because Thalia wasn't like Nico, in that respect. She fought with her emotions until someone one, and if she hated Percy she would treat him as such, not handling them both like Nico did.

Thalia turned to Percy. She probably sensed his eyes on her. For a minute, Percy was going to cry as he met her eyes, because they looked identical to the ones he'd just seen in his flashback—stormy blue. He didn't, because heroes or boys don't cry and there's no crying in baseball and besides, he had cried himself out in the last couple days and enough was enough.

"Are you—"she froze as Percy shook his head furiously and pointed to Nico. She rolled her eyes, but nodded. "_Are you okay?" _she mouthed it, instead of speaking it, like he had wanted her to do.

"_Yes."_

She looked dubious. He knew his face had always been an open book. "_Are you sure?"_ She said silently.

"_Yes,"_ he hesitated, "_Just lost in thought."_

She looked down at her lap, at her twisting fingers, and he knew she understood what that was like.

She looked at Nico, to her right. "_He snores."_

_"I know."_ Percy looked at her like, duh. He slept with the guy nearly every night. It wasn't quite snoring, anyway—more like rough, scratchy breathing.

"_Oh, that's right. You two are sleepover buddies."_ Percy didn't even know it was possible to lip-read attitude. It was possible, and Percy flushed slightly.

"_Stop it."_ He mouthed back.

"_No!"_ She smiled. "_But seriously, it's cool. If it works."_ She shrugged, like she wouldn't be caught dead with a dude in her bed. Oh, wait, Hunter of Artemis. Yeah.

The two of them idly chatted back and forth silently, and then in whispers, after they figured out lip-reading isn't all that accurate.

Eventually Nico woke up and Thalia and Percy continued their debate on whether Paramore or Fall-Out Boy was a better band.

"Seriously, you guys are arguing over this." Nico gave them a 'get real' look. "You are both so…punk." He said the word like an insult.

Thalia preened happily.

"I'm not punk!" Percy protested.

"He's not." Thalia agreed. "He's more skater."

"Whatever." Nico rolled his eyes.

"Not you too!" Percy gasped. "It's bad enough that Thalia rolls her eyes a lot, I can't stand the both of you doing it!"

In response, they both rolled their eyes.

"Jerks." Percy sank in his seat.

"It's Fall-Out Boy." Nico said shortly, running a hand over his face.

"No!" Percy growled, while Thalia cackled.

"Green Day trumps all." Percy added, after a moment.

"Agreed." Thalia said.

"Sure." Nico shrugged.

.

"Well, this is bad." Percy stared up at the building in front of them, and or a moment saw it from above, as the gods where surely seeing at as they laughed at the demigods. From the god's eye view, he saw the three of them—or, more likely, three mops of black hair and backpacks—standing in front of a three-story-tall, solid-as-a-rock building, complete with security cameras, guards, and crowds of people.

Nico shrugged. "You've hit worse."

"Hit meaning…?" Thalia queried, watching the guards switch out their shifts. There were two on either side of the front door.

"Literally and figuratively. He has both broken into and smacked around worse problems."

"True." Percy acknowledged with a tilt of his head. One of the guards was eyeing his arm. Percy grinned salaciously at the guard when he caught his eye, and the guard stopped staring.

.

Percy led the others to a nearby park and they pulled the notebook and pens out of Nico's pack, sharing, and writing down plans.

"It's the week; the place will be empty. We'll stick out like sore thumbs. Not you, Percy, but Nico and I still look like we're in our mid-teens."

"I could shadow-travel us in, but I couldn't do anything else if I were to get us back out."

"The bowl's on a shelf, at least, so we won't have to bust it out."

Object they were looking for: bowl. Thalia had toured the museum and picked up information, because Percy was already attracting a bit of attention and Nico didn't do well amongst all those old objects without good reason. Too many ghosts, he had said.

The bowl was bigger, like a bread-bowl, about a foot and a half in diameter. It had once been clay, typical of the Greek potters, before being broken. It was repaired with copper, so that the surface was spider-webbed with copper threads running to and fro. Then it was given to a handmaiden of Apollo as a gift, and she gave it to Aphrodite as a wedding present, whereupon, presumably because Aphrodite didn't want to get married and didn't need a reminder of an unhappy union, so she gave the bowl to her lover, Ares. Ares broke it and it was re-repaired, because apparently the Greek threw nothing away, but this time it was sealed with gold, so the orange and yellow spider webs wove across its surface. Ares gave it to Phobos as a coming of age present—Phobos was less-than-pleased with the bowl's origins, and gave it to some mortal. At some point all the emotional entanglement manifested in the bowl under the power of its owner, Phobos, so the bowl could be used to make a fear potion.

"That's messed up." Percy declared, as Thalia recited all of that, which had been noted off to one side of the shelf the bowl was on. All but the part about the fear potion, and the understanding that the Greek gods were real. The museum didn't mention those.

"Here's the plan." Percy could feel an idea, a strategy, forming. Even if strategy wasn't what he did best, he could do it. "Thalia, you're going to call people, and find out the exact recipe for that potion. Tonight, Nico's going to break me and him in, and you're going to, um, borrow supplies from stores or homes. Buy them if you can, but if you can't, don't worry too much about it."

"Yes, sir." Thalia smirked.

"While you're borrowing—"

"Stealing."

"_Borrowing _things, Nico's going to shadow-travel me into the museum, I'm going to grab the bowl, and we'll shadow-travel out to where we meet up. We'll return the bowl when the potions made, of course."

"Sounds like a good plan." Nico said.

"I need some drachma if I'm going to Iris-message people." Thalia looked expectantly at Percy, then Nico.

"No." Nico shook his head.

"We saw your bag, at the motel. You've got twice as much as the both of us put together."

"Worth a shot." Thalia flashed a smile over her shoulder and headed for the fountain.

"Think we can pull this off?" Nico asked quietly. He had his hands tucked in his hoodie pocket, and his hair was blowing against his face. He didn't look serene, just like Thalia didn't look vulnerable.

"I don't know. I hope so." Percy shoved his hand in his own pocket, once again feeling the acute not-there feeling about his other hand.

"I'm not sure I want it to." Nico admitted, even softer than before. Percy looked over at him.

"I know." Percy did. Nico was scared of seeing his fears, that's why they were fears. Nico struggled with his troubles just as Percy did; only Percy's were less motivating emotions, so they stagnated rather than eating. Percy was afraid of things happening, while Nico was afraid of them not happening. The only reason Percy was willing to do this, even if his mouth was going dry at the sheer thought of living out the things that terrified him, was because this was his quest and he had wanted it. This wasn't Nico's quest—Percy needed him, because he knew he wouldn't be powerful enough by himself, and it was less masochistic if someone else did it with him, right? Or did that make him sadistic, for doing this and asking Nico to do it, knowing that Nico would?

It was law of the new, after the war, after dying-inside Percy: Nico was a constant, like gravity. Nico would never not have a strong emotion for Percy, be it loathing or affection or whatever. Another law of after-the-war Percy: all Nico would have to do was say 'please', would be to push the littlest bit on an emotional bruise, to guilt trip Percy just a bit for all the damage done to him—Percy would have walked away.

Nico didn't. Percy didn't. He sat on the hard bench, wooden planks digging into his spine and his nonexistent elbow hurting like hell, and watched Thalia toss golden coins into the fountain and write down ingredients.

.

It was later. The sky was dark. Thalia had their pooled mortal money, Percy and Nico both had their swords drawn, and they were standing two blocks away from the museum, in an alley. The plans were set—they knew where they were meeting, they knew who was doing what.

Thalia swatted at Percy when he went to adjust her messenger back strap. "See you in a bit, Seaweed Brain." She turned to Nico. "And you, Creepy." Nico grinned, all teeth, and she walked away.

"You ready?" Percy asked, when her figure at retreated. He wasn't sure about that 'creepy' bit, but it was a pretty apt nickname.

"Yep." Nico grabbed Percy's arm in a harsh grasp, sure to leave bruises, and they moved backwards into the speeding darkness.

.

"That was a bitch." Nico announced, when they dropped into a different alley, an hour later. He promptly collapsed half on top of Percy, who just crumpled to the ground, exhausted.

"You can say that again." Percy groaned. His arm was sore, his shirt had been ripped, he'd nearly gotten his ear pierced and he'd never been an ear-piercing type of guy. He wiggled his leg a bit to get it out from under Nico's boney hipbone, which was digging into his kneecap.

"That was a bitch." Nico repeated.

Percy laughed, once, a sharp bark. It felt good to laugh.

"Trolls." Percy said, disgusted. "Who knew they were real?"

Nico let out a huff of breath that sounded kind of like, "not me".

"I mean, trolls?" Percy felt his hair sticking to the concrete below his head, and found himself in the odd position of _hoping_ whatever was doing the sticking was his own blood. He pulled his head up a bit, felt the spin of the world, and lowered it again. Adrenaline not worn off yet, apparently.

He could _feel_ his pulse pounding through his head, his chest, his fingertips.

"I feel…alive."

"You are alive." Nico pointed out. His voice was rough and scratchy in a way that made Percy's pounding pulse settle a bit, turn into a pins-and-needles sensation. "You just don't act like it."

"Hey!" Percy said indignantly, going to prop himself up but failing because he relied on an arm that wasn't there, and an arm that was going spaghetti-noodle-y with exhaustion. "You're one to talk about acting alive."

He regretted the words the minute, the instant, they left his lips.

"I didn't mean—" he went to explain, excuse, say anything. Nico cut him off.

"Stop, Percy."

There was a minute, then two, when the both of them said nothing. Nico didn't remove his weight from Percy's legs, didn't counter Percy's comment. Percy didn't say anything, because Nico said stop. Percy couldn't say anything, so he did something.

He forced his good(ish) arm under him, sitting fully up, before leaning over. _Don't think. Don't speak_. He beseeched himself, wanting something small without having to fear losing it.

He pushed Nico's hand off the boy's closed eyes, where he'd covered them, and pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

"Percy," Nico went to say something, but Percy cut him off. He didn't want to hear it, not now. He moved a little to the side and pressed his own lips to Nico's chapped ones, soflty, gently.

A small kiss. An apology. A promise he couldn't pu into words. '_I'm a bastard for everything I've done, and will do, but I need you. Please.'_

After a moment, Nico kissed back, once. An acceptance. Then he shoved Percy gently back, away from him.

.

.

.

**A/N: Meh, good enough pausing point. As will always be the case, I love to hear you guy's thoughts. Clue me in. **

**Next chapter: what the hell. Look, kissing. Next chapter: the awkwardness that comes after kissing. **

**Tobi. **


	9. Chapter 9--The Definition of Innocence

_Previously: _

_A small kiss. An apology. A promise he couldn't pu into words. 'I'm a bastard for everything I've done, and will do, but I need you. Please.'_

_After a moment, Nico kissed back, once. An acceptance. Then he shoved Percy gently back, away from him. _

.

.

Nico must have understood—as the two of them flopped back down and let their breathing settle, and waited for Thalia to return in an hour or so—that the kiss was not going to be discussed. He didn't ask Percy about it, which Percy was grateful for, because he didn't even fully understand.

He knew he had no words for what he was feeling.

He knew actions spoke louder than words.

He knew he wasn't attracted to Nico any more than he was attracted to Annabeth or Thalia, which wasn't saying he wasn't attracted to him. He knew the way Nico's muscles shifted when he ran through drills and the way his eyes reminded him of an old song of his mother's by Bob Dylan, just as he knew the way Annabeth's voice sounded when she muttered out loud to herself while reading, like he knew how Thalia's fingers caressed rails and signposts as she walked.

He knew he couldn't love Annabeth like that. And he knew Thalia could never be his as anything more than a sister, even if he had wanted her.

He also knew he had no right to kiss Nico, if he wanted to kiss him again. He didn't especially, right then, because that wasn't a kiss of wanting to kiss someone but rather a kiss of wanted to express something.

_How are they different? _Percy questioned himself. He was acutely aware of Nico's body thrown over his legs, still, one arm clutching the bowl, dozing lightly. _They are, and it matters, _he insisted to himself.

It was like two different paths to the same location. It would have been easier if he had kissed him because he liked him, and he wanted to. This is a hell of a lot harder. Because he didn't know what he was feeling, other than the fact that he knew Nico was very important (potentially more important than any other person) and he couldn't risk letting himself hurt him.

Some part of him said he loved Nico different than he loved the others, but then, he had thought that same thing about Annabeth. Nico wasn't like Annabeth, Nico would take Percy's 'I'm not in love with you' different. And then Percy's arm twinged, and he knew he couldn't be sure of what he felt.

He'd seen too much of himself in the past few months. He never thought he would have done what he'd done in order to end the war. He never thought he'd have broken up with Annabeth, or maybe she broke up with him. It was still unclear, actually. He never thought he'd have lost in purpose in life, or began to see just how damaged his friends were.

There was no telling whether he just wanted Nico because he needed to be needed, or because he needed to be needed _by Nico_.

His leg was going numb under the boy in question.

.

"Hey." Thalia stepped into the alley's entrance, silhouetted against the streetlight to where all Percy could see was the familiar, slim figure. She had a couple of trash bags hooked over her arms.

Percy looked up at her. "Hey. Got the stuff?"

"Most, but we may have a problem." She scanned them, on the ground, Nico asleep over Percy's legs, both of them scratched up and bloodied a bit. Riptide was wedged under Percy's side, blade flat as not to cut him. "What happened to you?"

"The bowl was being watched by a couple of trolls posing as security guards. We had a little trouble." What Percy didn't say was that the two of them had barely escaped as unharmed as they were, because he was nearly useless with his sword. He had managed to make a water fountain burst and take out one, and they avoided the other until they made it out. "What do you mean, 'trouble'?"

"I mean," she dropped the bags and sat down near him, folding her legs, "we need to let it sit overnight, after mixing. Plus there are a couple of 'unconventional' ingredients."

"Like what?"

"Like, this rare herb that only grows in one area. We need something from the place of one of ours' claiming, and the blood of an innocent."

Percy felt a swooping feeling in his stomach. Thalia herself looked sick.

"Nico." Percy shook his leg to wake Nico up. He needed to be awake for this, plus it gave Percy a minute stop himself from hurling.

Demigods don't hurt people, innocent people. Demigods protect innocent people. Besides, who was innocent, anymore?

"What?" Nico sat up off Percy's legs, and he felt the rush of blood make pins-and-needles down his legs.

"We've got trouble." Thalia told him.

"What else is new?" Nico rubbed his eyes (like a child, as it struck Percy) and scraped some dried blood off his cheek with a fingernail. "What's up?"

"We need some unusual ingredients for the fear potion."

"Okay. Define 'unusual'?" Nico's brow knitted and he looked from Thalia to Percy, flicking his eyes away quickly, and Percy felt an unusual tug behind his navel.

"The first two will be easy, but the third…" Thalia trailed off.

"We need the blood of an innocent." Percy broke in; sensing Thalia wasn't going to finish her point. She was staring off down the alley.

Nico's brow knitted even further and his lip twisted up. "Of course we do." He looked pensive for a minute, staring right at Percy but not seeming to see him, staring off and past. "How innocent?"

"What?" Percy and Thalia both asked, at the same time.

"How innocent?" He repeated, still staring blankly. "There are different measures of innocence. Sometimes it means having done no wrongs, sometimes it means having never intentionally caused anyone harm. It can refer to virginity or never having killed someone."

Percy and Thalia exchanged glances. Percy had no idea which idea of innocence would suffice. Did they even know anyone who had done no wrong? All they'd need is a prick of the finger—blood for potions and oaths was a lot smaller amount than most movies suggested.

"Which is more likely to be the one we need?" Percy asked.

"I don't know. let me consult my trivia knowledge of the meaning of innocence." Nico said sarcastically, and scratched his chin. "It probably means 'never having killed'. That's what the Greek philosophers used as the meaning of innocence, unless it's virginity. That's not as likely."

"We're screwed." Thalia declared. "Do we know anyone who's never killed someone?"

Percy racked his brains. Nope. Everyone he knew had killed, either monsters or titans.

"Well," Nico began, still absently picking at his bone sword, "it's also likely that the idea of killing someone means killing a _human._ Like the not-monster and not-titan human." He added, apparently seeing the other two's faces.

"Ooooh." Percy drawled.

"Oh, that's easier!" Thalia shook her head.

"I know, give me a second." Nico looked lost in thought. "The Greek made allowances for war and self-defense in their courts, so their idea of innocence would have been shaped by that. As long as the person killed wasn't a friend, but an enemy." Nico nodded, looking pleased.

"So we need to find someone who only killed enemies?" Percy repeated skeptically.

"If I understand the idea of the culture at the time, yes."

"That's easy, then." That wasn't as hard as Percy would have thought. It looked like they wouldn't have to break into a nursery and stick a baby with a pin for innocent blood.

Thalia nodded too, before her eyebrow rose as she stared down at the ground between her legs, seeming conflicted.

"You know," she started, coughed, and Percy felt the tingle on the back of his neck, that meant the survivalist part of him recognized something before the rest of him did—something distressing and dangerous and dark. "You know I can't give that, right?"

She met Percy's eyes after she spoke, and his chest gave a small, ache-y thud that must have been his heart feeling for her.

Percy looked away from her eyes, the eyes that were daring him to judge her for this.

"When," He started, staring back down the other side of the alley, to the streetlights and the light, soft-coming dawn. He felt Nico shift near him and heard the rough scrape of the other boy's jeans on the dirty-concrete ground. "When?" He phrased the word as a question, giving her an option. He wasn't going to pry—she could give him a rough date and that'd be that, or she could expound if she wanted to.

"About a year ago." She froze, and took a deep breath. "About a year ago, a Hunter got trapped in the crossfire. I— " She broke off, again, and tried to take another breath, but it caught in her throat horribly. Percy saw the shaking, slight shaking in her shoulders, and scooted himself over. He knew her—she may have put on a tough act, and was without a doubt the toughest girl he knew, but everyone hurt and had a weak spot and her Hunters were hers. He pushed his mind away from what she was saying, not wanting to think about it. He wrapped his arm around her and tugged her in to his chest, let her curl around him and try to breath.

This was familiar. He'd done this a dozen times before—holding the hurting, comforting them. And while he'd done it so often it was a habit, an instinct even, he hadn't done it enough. He knew there were others that died for his quest while he led them (not Jason don't think of Jason don't betray me now brain), he knew this. He knew the feeling of another body tucked around his while she shook like a leaf in the wind.

He felt Nico's eyes on them both, drifting over them, because Nico was watching down both sides of the alley and keeping them safe.

Thalia shook her head. "I killed her." She managed, voice sounding wrecked even if her face remained clear of tears. "She was a Hunter, one of my family members. She wasn't supposed to be there." The words dripped with guilt and Percy couldn't bear that, not now, not her.

"Hey." He pulled her in closer to him, as tight as he could without hurting her. "You made a mistake. It's not your fault." Percy needed his other hand here, to do something soothing like rub her back or pat a shoulder, but he made do without it.

"She wasn't supposed to be there." She repeated.

"Not your fault_._" He countered. He needed to get this through to her. "Mistakes happen." He murmured against her short, dark hair.

After that, he just held her until she was done shaking. He knew she wouldn't have let go of the guilt like that; it never happened after just one break-down. Healing took a lot more effort than that, he mused, feeling the twinge in his fingers that were gone. When she stopped shivering she pushed herself up off him and rubbed her eyes, pointedly not meeting either of their eyes.

"Are you okay?" Nico spoke up, leaning forward. He tenderly pushed one of her longer strands of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, and Percy remembered he wasn't the only person who cared about Thalia so much it hurt.

She nodded and the hair swung back, tracing her nose. "Thanks." She said softly, and gave them both looks that screamed 'drop it'.

"So, that leaves—"

"Nico." Percy said flatly.

Both sets of eyes—bright blue and dark brown—fixed on him before falling to the floor. They knew he was right.

"Nico." Percy repeated, staring down at his own hands and for a moment, behind his eyes, seeing the blood on them as clearly as if it was really there, staining his skin.

"We need a rare herb, found in a valley south. Nico, could you pop down there and get it?" Thalia spoke up, and pulled out a piece of paper with a list of instructions and a drawing of a plant.

"I'll be back in a few hours. Iris-message me a location to meet." Nico took the piece of paper from her and hesitated. He pushed himself up off the ground, turned, and set one hand on top of Percy's head, carding his fingers through Percy's hair. The soft warmth tingled down Percy's scalp to his spine, temporarily stopping the phantom pain. Then he was gone and Percy looked at Thalia askance. She was pointedly looked at his now-mussed hair and down to his eyes.

"Why didn't I get petted on?"

"I really don't know." Percy smiled. "I'm special, I guess." Then he sobered a bit, remembering his unnecessarily harsh words of a couple hours ago, and the kiss that followed.

"Percy, be careful."

"Of what?"

"You worry me, sometimes. Nico worries me, often. The two of you…" She smiled at him and flicked his nose. "You're either going to kill each other, or fix each other."

"I think…He's helped fix me, a bit." Percy said it out loud. He knew Nico had done a lot more than help 'a bit', but he wasn't about to admit it. "But we may still kill each other." He added.

"Great. I'll find your skeletons, having strangled each other over the television remote."

"Ha. Ha." Percy fake laughed, and then picked out something from under his nails. "I will."

"Will what?"

"Be careful. I'm not going, I mean, I'll make sure I won't—I can't hurt Nico again. I don't think I could do that, again, without hurting me more too." _God, I'm babbling._ Percy mentally made fun of himself.

"Good." Thalia said.

"Good?"

"That's what I said."

"So, while Nico's off finding magical weeds, what's our mission?" Percy asked.

"Something from the place one of us was claimed. Where were you claimed?"

"Uh," Percy skittered around in his own mind for a moment. "In the creek at Camp."

"Hm." She looked bemused. "Do you think it still counts as the same water?"

"Same creek, even if it's not the same exact droplets." It was funny to think that after all that had happened to Camp, the creek still ran the same rough path.

"We don't have a ride." Thalia pointed out.

"We're back in New York." Percy said. "Hand me a Drachma?"

.

"Give me the eye!" Wasp screeched as the grey cab wheeled away from the side of the road, having deposited its sickly-looking passengers. The sun was up by then, so the streets buzzing past them had been dizzying clear.

"Where-" Thalia gagged, "did you hear of that cab?"

"Annabeth." Percy wheezed. Lay all the blame on Annabeth, his usual tactic.

"The Grey Sisters?"

"I may have a tiny," Percy held up two fingers, about an inch apart, as he began to stagger over the hills towards the camp, "death-wish."

"You must." Thalia rubbed her side, probably regretting having used the heavy industrial chains provided as seat-belts.

"We're here, aren't we?" Percy gestured to the familiar green rolls of ground, the house in the near distance. "Look, home sweet home!" He pointed toward to a pine tree on the closest hill, where a fleece hung, protected by a scaled lump of a dragon.

"That's very funny." She said sarcastically, but she sounded amused, and that was worth the bad joke.

The two had discussed their plan in the cab (or roller coaster, depends on if you're going by technicalities or not) for how to approach the camp.

The fact was Percy wasn't ready to be seeing the campers and the camp yet. Thalia had insisted he drop in and see Chiron while she went to the woods and got water from the creek, and he agreed. He hadn't wanted her to go in the woods alone but she had fixed him with the 'I'm a Hunter and a daughter of Zeus and was fighting monsters when you were in first grade' look and he let her go. She was a big girl.

.

So he walked towards the familiar shape of the house, noticing the lack of people. He knew the camp schedule so it didn't bother him; everyone would be down at the lake for another hour, watching the watersports. Percy was on a quest; other people's lives didn't pause.

He paused in the front door before pushing it open and making his way to Chiron's office area. Once there, he paused in that doorway (doorways seemed to be becoming a good pausing place) and took in the scene.

Chiron was back in his wheelchair, going through papers. Papers were stacked in piles, everywhere, littering the floor. There was a satyr in a corner, writing down lots of lines while chewing on a different sheet of already-written-on paper. Percy was strongly reminded of Grover chewing through a tin can. The satyr noticed Percy and jumped up, but Chiron didn't notice anything and just kept reading. He looked…good. Whole. Happy. Chiron had had it rough the past few years, and had finally gotten free of the wars, and was back to dealing with the normal camp-managing-type things. It had to boring, but less dangerous and world-threatening.

Percy cleared his throat, shifting from one foot to the other and pulling his backpack strap in closer to his body. It kept slipping, without an arm as an anchor.

Chiron slowly raised his head, and widened his eyes sharply when he saw Percy.

"Percy." He named him, like he wasn't sure about it. That hurt, like a dagger to the side.

"Hi." Percy tried for a casual smile and failed miserably. The satyr scurried up and out the door. Percy stepped farther into the room, lifting his feet over a pile of papers labeled 'outgoing expenses'. "Erm, how are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you?" Chiron barely paid attention to where he set the papers down, looking intently at Percy, scanning him up and down and checking for injuries besides the most obvious.

Percy opened his mouth to say 'good' and closed it again. This was Chiron, who found him at Yancy and taught him and saved him and he deserved better than that, if Percy could give it. "I'm working on it." Percy answered truthfully.

Chiron smiled, looking sympathetic, but not in that hated 'oh-poor-dear' way but in the 'I've been there' way. It was different, and good. "So I've heard." He gestured to the recently vacated chair, which Percy gratefully took. "How's your quest going?"

"It's coming along." Percy chuckled. "Better than any of my others, I think."

"You did have some difficult ones, didn't you?" Chiron laughed softly. "I remember it sent you to Phobos, but what else have you figured out? Anything?"

Percy recited the prophecy, with a little more though than he should have taken, throwing in his own commentary where necessary.

"Three shall see fear and see fear bereft (see, that's the Phobos part, he was missing his toy), two shall find the lost blade, and one shall be left (not actually sure about that part). One will see reward and one will see pain (pretty straightforward, if potentially painful), and three shall unite to lose it again (again, seems pretty straightforward).

"Of course," he added, "prophecies are never straightforward."

Chiron shrugged. "I'm sure you know not to dwell on it."

"Yeah," Percy looked down, chagrined, "I think I haven't been thinking about it enough, you know? I'm just worried about Thalia, and Nico." He knew he didn't have to outline his fear to Chiron—Chiron knew his enough by now to know that he didn't want to see them hurt on account of his quest.

"How are you doing, with this?" Chiron leaned forward and rested on one elbow, gesturing to Percy's stump with the other.

"It's problematic." Percy admitted. There was no point denying it. "I'm getting used to it, I think. Not so much what it means, though."

"That's to be expected." Chiron muttered, and Percy actually saw when he slipped into counselor-mode. He looked gentler, more empathetic, and open to listening as long as Percy would talk.

"It's just…I don't know what to do, with my life, now." Percy said.

"You live, Percy."

"…other than that. I like living too much to give that up." That was true, too. Percy had thought, once, in the past, about taking his own life, but not for long. He loved life, loved seeing and feeling things. That's why is shocked him when he knew Nico tried—how could you lose so much, to see the world so tinted dark, that emptiness would have felt better than pain?

"Have you thought about getting a job?"

"Yes. I was thinking, maybe, a fisherman or something. It wouldn't be a lot of money," Percy acknowledged, "but it'd be fun, I think.

"That's all that matters." Chiron promised, before changing tracks. "How are the nightmares?"

Percy shifted. "Who said I was having nightmares?" He mentally ran through the list: Annabeth, Nico, Thalia, the whole of the Ares cabin…looking at it, it wasn't so suspicious that Chiron knew.

"I guessed." Chiron said. That wasn't what Percy had just assumed. "So how are they?"

"Bad. I don't usually remember them, but when I do—" Percy repressed a shudder at the thought of the things his subconscious had been bringing him: dead friends, drakons, and wars.

Chiron nodded, once again sympathetic in the good way.

Percy eyed the door as he heard footsteps and hoped it was Thalia. Even if Chiron wasn't pushing him, Percy needed to get away. He loved the guy, but he was a presence, and Percy didn't want to talk—or think—about the topic any further.

It was. The door creaked open and Thalia stuck her head in, shaking a vial of clear liquid with a little dirt and mud condensing at the bottom.

"Percy?" She queried, the corners of her mouth turning up at Chiron.

"Ready." Percy stood up and wove through the maze of stacks. He stopped near Chiron, however, and stuck out a hand. Chiron took it, they shook, and Percy ducked out of the room before he got emotional.

"Well, we've got the water!" Thalia said, faking cheeriness. "How'd your talk go?"

"Good." Percy said, distracted, as he took the vial from Thalia and looked at it. If Nico got those plants, this was the last ingredient. Tomorrow, the day after, the quest would be over.

.

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**A/N: We do finally get to confront some fears next time. **

**I like build and tension, okay?**

**Tobi. **


	10. Chapter 10--The Sword

_Previously; _

_"__Well, we've got the water!" Thalia said, faking cheeriness. "How'd your talk go?"_

_"__Good." Percy said, distracted, as he took the vial from Thalia and looked at it. If Nico got those plants, this was the last ingredient. Tomorrow, the day after, the quest would be over. _

.

.

Thalia Iris-messaged Nico in the Big House bathroom while Percy sat on the porch. Nobody walked around, because it was mid-day and all the campers were fighting or training or doing whatever it was that was the main activity this time of day.

Percy held the tiny vial of water up and studied it. The vial was something Thalia had nicked—ahem, borrowed—in her search for ingredients. It was a couple of inches tall and cylindrical, and it seemed to Percy like one of those perfume samples that usually smelled like old lady but seemed to spawn in the bottom of his mother's purse when he was a child.

The water inside swirled around like a funnel, a tiny water hurricane, as he toyed with it absently. He was holding it still in his hand but used his power to make a whirlpool, tossing up the grains of sand and dirt into the water, making it cloudy.

Cloudy, like his mind.

This water was the last, or next-to-last, thing they needed to make this potion. Or, more accurately, it was the thing _he _needed to make the potion. The others were on this quest, but it was ultimately his job, he was the leader.

He stared through the water, through the clearer swirls of water as it began to settle and the pollutants settled to the bottom again. It magnified the light coming at him, into his eyes. It burned a bit, but not in a bad way. Or maybe it was burning in a bad way, and Percy wanted that.

He pushed the water around with his power again and it stirred, swam, the grime sweeping up from the bottom through the water of the place he was claimed and called home for so long like smoke curving up through the sky.

It was odd how many similarities there were between the water and the sky.

Percy felt the sudden, irrational urge to spill the water, to make it expand so far that the vial shattered, to watch the water fall between the boards at his feet. _What in Hades?_, he demanded of himself, and shoved the vial deep into his backpack.

He didn't need this, to be scaring himself, not now. That fear was not one he could deal with.

Percy stared out over the hills, the strawberry fields growing pink with the fruit. He remembered Katie growling years ago about how the plants kept growing all over the place, not in the neat rows she wanted them in. That led to him musing about his older friends, the ones he lost contact with over the course of the fighting and the subsequent living. Last he heard Katie had been planning to go into something to do with business and agriculture, and possibly an organic food company. Come to think of it, the Stoll brothers had been planning on going in with her on it, as they had at some point become pretty shrewd businessmen. It was probably the poker face the two were capable of. Malcolm, Annabeth's half-brother, had been going to MIT, he knew because Annabeth had bragged about it. He kept meaning to ask about how her dad and step-mom and brothers were doing, but it had slipped his mind the last times they had spoken.

It was odd to think of the other, finishing up high school and going to college or work and making their own way through the world. That didn't happen often, but when it did, the lucky demigods usually made names for themselves. It was too easy to lose them in the bustle of the 'real' world out there, if that's what it could be called.

_Where's Thalia going to tell Nico to meet us?,_ Percy wondered idly. There were only a few option he could think of, unless she decided on some random street out in the middle of nowhere, which would be a good idea. Then again, it'd be hard to get Nico to meet them in exactly the right place, if they went with a random street.

As it turned out, Thalia had given Nico the address of some intersection on the East side. Percy and Thalia took a (normal, non-magic) cab the spot and found Nico there.

Percy laughed quietly and elbowed Thalia when they stepped out of the cab. Nico was leaning up against the gritty-brick wall with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, but Percy could see the faint glimmer of a stark black handle in his hoodie pocket and could see the way his eyes flitted beneath his eyelids. He was trying to look casual but Percy could see how on-edge he was. With his arms crossed defensively and his backpack and dark clothes, he looked like a no-good, like he was trouble. Then again, he was, so maybe that was an apt description. It was a miracle the cops hadn't been called on him.

"Do you have the goods?" Percy mock whispered as they drew closer, like he was about to make an illicit trade or something.

"You got the money?" Nico retorted.

"Nope, but I've got some magic water."

"Guys." Thalia glanced around like she was worried they were going to be overheard and searched by the cops, which would be a very bad deal given the amount of weaponry and borrowed (fine, _stolen_) goods they had on them.

"I've got it." Nico pulled his other arm out of his hoodie pocket and rummaged around in his bag, pulling out a Ziploc baggie of drooping, wilted leaves. Yep, definitely need to avoid getting searched.

"Okay, then. What's our next step?" Percy turned to Thalia and she shook her head, and he remembered this was _his_ quest and he should probably act a little more in charge or something. "Ah, our next step is to…find a place to mix this up." Percy indicated the various things they had collected.

"Where would that be?"

"Back alley?"

"Kind of exposed, you know?" Percy thought about it. "We need to be out of the way, because we may as well use that same place for taking the potion."

"Ooo-kay." Nico drawled, wrinkling up his nose. The cogs in Thalia's head seemed to be turning rapidly.

"Abandoned building?"

"Great, but we'd need to find one." Percy pointed out.

"Let's find one." Thalia shrugged. "The mix needs to sit overnight, remember? We've got plenty of time."

"Then let's find one."

.

Four hours later, the three sat around with growling stomachs, having discovered a few things.

They discovered the second floor of an old apartment building. Due to a cave-in in one corner and water stains all over the floor it had been empty for some time. Percy decided they were in no (or insignificant) danger and they had set up.

They discovered that, despite the unusual ingredients, it was pretty easy to make. They threw the majority of the stuff into the bowl, set carefully in the middle of the floor, and mixed it up with a spoon. Then they added the water, and the herb, and Nico dragged a blade across his palm, releasing a few drops of vivid blood into the creamy mixture.

They discovered that Nico gets sick when faced with stirring gross-looking food. So he sat, retching, in the corner while Thalia and Percy took turns stirring until it was blended smoothly. It was disgusting looking—and smelling—with a brown-red color and a putrid, sulfurous smell. Percy hoped to gods that it would settle a bit before he had to choke some down.

"Well, that's that." Percy peered down at the pretty dish and not-so-pretty potion, grimacing.

He scooted on his rear until his back hit the wallpapered wall. Thalia followed, dragging her heels in a screeching way.

They sat there in silence, listening to the wind whistling across the cave-in section on the other side of the room like a breeze across the open end of a glass bottle.

.

"This is it, I guess." Percy peered down into his cup of, well, whatever this thing was. Potion seemed very bedtime-story-ish and soup would have been soupier. Calling it juice would have been a blow to all fruits.

Luckily it did settle down a bit—while it stayed the same color the smell toned down to something faintly musty, like attics. Which was more than bearable considering what it contained.

Heck, this had Nico's blood in it. Plus water from the creek where kids splashed in and through, and some random plant from the wilderness, and raw eggs. He was likely to get food poisoning.

He tipped it back and took his first gulp.

Ew. Ew. Ew.

Repressing the urge to spit it out on the floor, Percy tried to clap a hand over his mouth but couldn't because he was holding the rest of his drink. He forced himself to not acknowledge the rotten, old taste that scoured his taste buds and swallow, twice.

"Bleh." He stuck his tongue out, half expecting his tongue to be gone. Thalia was gagging on hers still, and Nico had turned green with reddish splotches. Percy lifted up his cup and drained the last of it. _It was easier to get down this time_, he lied to himself.

He bent and set the cup down on the floor with a firm _click_. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, wishing the residual taste would go away.

"That was gross." Thalia managed as she tapped her cup down next to Percy's, quickly followed by Nico's.

"When does it work?" Percy heard Nico say the words, but they faded away into the air around him as his surroundings spun and resettled, different.

He couldn't see the other two, couldn't move, and couldn't speak. With a horrible, lurching feeling in his stomach, he recognized where he was—grass and dark sky and silhouettes.

_No,_ he thought, begged his own mind. _No, this isn't what the potion was supposed to do_.

Because Thalia had said, because her girls had told her that this potion would show them their biggest fears and not make them re-live the things that made them afraid, like this.

Percy knew that was what was happening when he saw his mom in the Minotaur's grip, finely detailed. It was like he was back in that instant, frozen in time. He could see the blades of grass under his feet and the dark sky and his mother's terrified face and he remembered.

It was the first time he thought he might lose her.

If Percy hadn't have been solidified, stuck where he was, he would have thrown up for the _terror_, the _wrong_, because this wasn't what he was prepared for. His pulse was beating in his ears and behind his eyes and at his wrists. His own breathing was harsh and it was the only thing he could hear. He couldn't draw his sword, and he had never felt so helpless. Useless, which he hadn't thought had been a fear until recently but look, it had roots back to the very, very beginning of his story when someone (probably a Fate, those bitches) decided it was time to pull the wild card that was Perseus into play.

And he was utterly helpless, he realized, as the world swam around him again before doubling back in its efforts.

He was standing in the kitchen with Nico, eating a sandwich. He was curled up around Nico in bed, and Percy mentally shook himself because he hadn't realized he had been grabbing onto Nico's t-shirt when he slept fitfully. He was standing with Nico on a ranch out of the Labarynth, and fighting next to Nico at Camp, out of the Labarynth.

Memories of Nico swept across the screen of his surroundings like a stop-motion film. He saw how many times he'd needed Nico, just needed Nico to need him. He couldn't bring himself to feel ashamed at that, because he deserved that fear.

Then it was a well, and he wasn't standing this time but suspended neck-deep in water in Rome.

He saw himself trying to keep his head afloat, and Piper, and Jason, and he saw how afraid he was of sinking and how afraid they were and it was wrong, and, oh, god, Jason and he couldn't do that—he tried to send out a prayer to any god that would listen but it was like an echo as it bounced back at him.

The tide of a different time rolled over him as the bile rose in his throat, as he gagged because he couldn't breathe. His knees crumpled beneath him and he fell to them, luckily keeping his balance because his arm wasn't working. Then he was kneeling in Tartarus, and it was endless dark in any direction. There was a wall of fire and Annabeth looking like a corpse and Bob, gone. Then the light flickered out and it suddenly struck him like a blow to the head that he had never feared the dark as much as what it meant, because it meant oblivion and ending and not knowing what was sneaking up behind you.

Because he couldn't see if he was alone or if there were others.

Because he couldn't know if he was alive or dead, and if this was like death was like…

Percy heard a high, keening noise he dimly noticed as himself, protesting against this, shrieking softly into the dark as the world faded into a different perspective, a different lifetime nearly.

_No,_ Percy muttered again, as his heart clenched and then shattered in his chest, and he felt the cold shards of heart pierce his lungs as he couldn't draw breath.

There were bodies lying here and there on the ground, indistinguishable, holding that air of anonymity given to the dead by the living. They had all been people with lives and dreams nand friends and all of them had given that up, made a sacrifice play most of them hadn't even understood, because someone said 'this is what's right'. There were plaques on the wall of the Big House at Camp memoralizing them and Percy counted them, one day, but in the end he couldn't even keep himself together much less keep track of that many lost souls. He barely remembered there were other people there; that it wasn't just him and Jason locked in that cruel moment.

Piper was there and was not looking at Jason but at Octavian who died by her hand, because it must have been easier to see her own guilt than the broken boy.

Neither Hazel nor Frank had been there, they had to be told later about it, by Leo of all people. That was a small silver lining to the cloud, and faux silver at that, like a silver-y spray-paint streak across the wall of a bad neighborhood. Seeing it would have broken Hazel beyond repair—she was a warrior, but she was a friend first, and that was something the rest of them had deadened themselves to. She was broken, anyway, but she was spared this break.

The thing about war is that there aren't winners or losers left behind. There were just the dead and the damaged left to face the world again.

Thalia had broken her leg in two places and was twisted up, back arched in agony, with that girl of hers named Clara brushing tears away. Clara had tried so hard but Thalia wasn't suffering for the snap of bones but the quick slide of steel that had killed her baby brother and that was something no one could undo.

Percy hadn't seen Nico the first time around, he had been consumed and distraught and Nico was but a sideline-figure, a shadow in the corner. This time, watching it with fresh (albeit, streaming) eyes, he was Nico of the past wearing blood-soaked clothes with a skull tucked under his arm, staring disbelieving at the body on the ground. He had known Jason, and loved Jason in that way Nico loved very few people, because Jason had been the anti-Nico in a way and it seemed to Percy that they understood something, the two of them, something that was incomprehensible to him. And Nico was seeing the life leave the eyes of the only other person who understood that private thing, and Percy was reminded of how brutal he was for never having noticed Nico standing off to the side.

He saw himself, a bit away, bent down and crumpled to the ground, sobbing into the earth and digging at the ground with fingernails that were bloody. Riptide was blessedly out of his hands, discarded like the killing thing it was, because if Percy had held that blade one minute longer he might have just run it through himself to where his own blood mingled with Jason's blood on the blade.

Jason's blood on the blade.

Jason's blood on _his blade_.

Jason's blood on his hands.

The blood Jason had wanted him to stop on his hands, his blade, his clothes, Jason's cheek, swiped that way when Piper had rubbed it away.

"Please." Jason said that word three times, first commanding like the brave soldier he had always tried to be, and then pleading when Percy hadn't because Percy was a coward, then finally whispered like a prayer to anyone who could have heard and Percy had folded because he was weak as wet paper in the wind.

Luke had taught him once—back before Luke had gone his own way that may have been wrong but was in far too much of a grey area for Percy to judge—that even when you hurt, when you kill someone, you don't make them suffer too much.

You don't torture them needlessly.

You don't hurt them if they're not fighting you back.

You don't put a blade in their stomach, like the gods-damned monster of a demigod that had hurt Jason did.

Percy never wanted to be in a world where a boy who betrayed his camp knew that much more about honor than a leader of one. Percy didn't want to be a part of that, wanted to go back to canoe races and school field trips and getting picked on in classes and even the Titan war, thinking he was going to die every half-a-second, even that was better than _this, _than futile bloodshed and cold-heartedness.

Athena was right all those years ago, about his fatal flaw, because through all the changes he went through one thing was still true: he would sacrifice the world to save his friends.

But he couldn't trade the world for Jason, even if he wanted to.

So he killed the part of himself that thought he was a hero in order to save Jason a few minutes suffering.

As his world started to get fuzzy around the edges—maybe because he couldn't breathe, but more likely because he was going to pass out from whatever level of stress and fear he was at, seeing this all stopped before him like a three-dimensional photograph from Hell.

Just before the blurriness of the world drew into the center of his vision, obscuring everything, he had a thought.

_'__If this doesn't draw that sword in, I will be severely pissed.'_ He just had enough mental fortitude to see the flash of a blade in the corner of his eye that wasn't one that belonged to anyone in the frame before the beautiful dying light rolled over and he was gone.

.

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**Short chapter is short, but I'm crying, so screw that. **

**I want to hear what you guys think. **

**I love you and I'm not just saying that because I'm irrationally emotional right now. **

**Tobi.**


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